CLEARY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 


LIKE  A 
GALLANT  LADY 


BY 

KATE  M.  CLEARY 


1  The  World's  male  chivalry  has  perished  out. 
But  Women  are  Knights  Errant  to  the  last. 
And  if  Cervantes  had  been  Shakespeare  too. 
He'd  made  his  Don,  a  Donna." 

E.  B.  BROWNING 


CHICAGO 

WAY  AND  WILLIAMS 

1897 


COPYRIGHT,    1897,    BY  WAY  &  WILLIAMS 
THE  COVER   IS  FROM  A  DESIGN  BY  MR.  WILL   BRADLEY. 


TO  NEBRASKA. 

To  the  village  and  the  plain 

Of  a  land  of  toil  and  pain, 
Of  a  land  where  drouth  devoureth 

Making  labor  void  and  vain; 
Where  ambitions  cease  to  glow, 

Where  high  hopes  are  buried  low, 
And  the  mad  mirage  of  other 

Lands,  the  sweetest  thing  we  know. 

To  a  land  that  yet  shall  be 

Fair  and  fertile,  proud  and  free, 
Golden  grain  and  happy  homesteads, 

'  Twixt  the  east  and  western  sea — 
From  a  woman  whom  the  west 

Harbored  bride,  and  slave  and  guest, 
Has  been  kind  to — has  been  cruel — 

And  has  given  worst — and  best! 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  Here  comes  the  lady!" 

— Romeo  and  Juliet. 

**  "\X7"HEN  I  have  enough  money 
VV  to  make  the  folks  —  barring 
mother,  God  bless  her! — consider  me 
respectable,  I'll  go  home,  marry  Edith, 
and  live  happy  ever  after. " 

Jack  Jardine,  glowing  with  approba 
tion  of  his  righteous  resolution,  entered 
the  Owl-King  saloon  and  treated  his 
decision  with  gravity  and  decorum. 
Six  years  before,  when  he  left  the  home 
of  his  forefathers  beyond  the  ocean, 
he  bore  with  him  the  very  willing 
consent  of  his  paternal  relative,  the 
plaintive  protest  of  his  mother,  four 


2  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

thousand  pounds,  three  trunks  and 
the  generously  accorded  advice  of  sev 
eral  friends  not  to  make  a  fool  of 
himself  again.  From  this  recommen 
dation  the  deduction  may  be  made 
that  Jack  Jardine  had  not  been  as 
wise  as  he  was  handsome — which  would, 
indeed,  have  been  a  good  deal  to  ex 
pect.  The  week  of  his  arrival  in  New 
York  he  lost  one  thousand  pounds. 
The  remainder  he  invested  in  a  cat 
tle  ranch  in  Nebraska.  His  invest 
ment  brought  handsome  returns.  Even 
in  the  seasons  of  drouth  that  fol 
lowed  he  was  fairly  successful.  He 
was  shrewd,  alert,  daring,  some  said 
unscrupulous.  At  all  events,  he  in 
creased  the  boundaries  of  his  property, 
put  money  in  bank,  built  a  house  and 
contradicted  generally  the  charitable 
predictions  of  his  people  in  England 
that  when  he  no  longer  felt  the  re 
straint  of  their  presence  his  downfall 
would  be  rapid  and  sure  as  the  stick 
of  a  rocket. 

Suddenly  a  whistle  sounded.     The 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  3 

men  in  the  saloon  bolted  for  the  door 
and  tore  wildly  down  the  street.  Jar- 
dine  finished  his  whisky,  and,  in  lei 
surely  fashion,  followed  them.  The 
abrupt  exodus  signified  the  approach 
of  the  train  from  the  East,  which  came 
in  every  second  day.  The  population 
of  Bubble  invariably  assembled  in  force 
on  these  occasions.  A  freight  car,  in 
which  a  couple  of  boards  laid  length 
wise  did  service  for  seats,  accommo 
dated  passengers.  From  this  com 
partment  stepped  a  young  and  pretty 
woman.  Her  gown,  the  poise  of  her 
head,  the  way  she  walked,  distinguished 
her  as  city-bred.  Her  glance  swept 
her  surroundings.  She  saw  the  dull, 
red  depot  and  section-house,  the  star 
ing  crowd  of  flannel-shirted,  top-booted 
men,  of  clumsy  women,  of  gaping 
children;  the  brand  new  buildings,  many 
in  process  of  erection,  straggling  across 
riven  cornfields;  the  bluffs,  some  steep, 
some  sloping,  which  encircled  the  bowl- 
shaped  hollow  of  the  embryo  town. 


4  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Hotel?  Imperial  hotel,  Miss? 
Check?" 

She  surrendered  a  bit  of  brass  to  the 
lad  soliciting  her  custom,  and  turned 
to  follow  him  up  the  solitary  sidewalk 
the  town  boasted.  Jack  Jardine,  loung 
ing  against  the  station-house,  became 
mechanically  deferential  as  she  drew 
nearer.  He  straightened  up,  and  put 
his  pipe  in  his  pocket.  A  startled 
look  flashed  into  his  face.  He  turned 
quickly  to  the  conductor. 

"Who  is  she,  Wilkins?" 

Wilkins  was  a  person  of  importance. 
He  possessed  the  latest  news,  an 
swered  innumerable  questions,  and  was 
supposed  to  know  the  personal  history 
of  each  passenger. 

"Her  name  is  Lyle — a  relative  of 
Rob's,  I  suppose.  She  had  a  through 
ticket." 

' '  Lyle  ?  "  echoed  Jardine  sharply. 

"That's  it.  Catch  on  to  the  chap 
we  hauled  without  getting  wrecked. 
Ain't  he  a  daisy?  Well,  so  long." 
He  swung  himself  on  the  moving  train, 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  5 

threw  a  kiss  to  a  beaming  Bohemian 
girl  on  the  platform  and  went  rocking 
westward. 

' '  Well, "  drawled  a  voice  of  disgusted 
astonishment  at  Jardine's  elbow,  "jest 
look  at  that  ther'  feller!  I'll  be  dog- 
goned!" 

Jardine  looked  up  and  saw  the  pas 
senger  to  whom  Wilkins  had  so  irrever 
ently  referred.  He  was  a  youngish 
man,  squat  and  very  stout.  His  round, 
heavy-featured  face  was  crimson  and 
clean-shaven.  His  nose  was  a  pro 
nounced  pug.  His  mouth  was  large  and 
smiling.  His  eyes — in  one  of  which  a 
monocle  was  screwed  —  were  small, 
twinkling,  friendly.  He  wore  a  showy 
plaid  suit,  abbreviated  as  to'  coat  and 
voluminous  as  to  trousers .  The  helmet 
of  the  British  tourist  adorned  his  head. 
A  massive  gold  chain,  from  which 
a  bunch  of  seals  depended,  dangled 
across  his  vest.  His  satin  tie  was  pink 
as  the  skin  of  a  Bougereau  nymph.  In 
one  yellow-gloved  hand  he  carried  two 
satchels.  The  other  gripped  a  bundle 


6  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

of  canes  and  umbrellas,  and  held  a 
long,  steel  chain  to  which  was  attached 
a  diminutive  dog.  The  people  on  the 
platform  contemplated  him  with  disre 
spectful  interest  as  he  approached  Jar- 
dine,  set  down  the  satchels,  held  out  his 
hand. 

' '  How  d'ye  do  ?"  he  asked  pleasantly, 
showing  a  mouthful  of  big,  sound,  white 
teeth.  Jardine,  blue-shirted  and  cordu 
roy-clad,  wearing  battered  top  boots  and 
an  ancient  hat,  fairly  gasped. 

"It's  Jennings!" 

Mr.  Jennings  smiled  a  vast  wel 
come  for  himself.  "Yes,"  he  assented 
cordially,  "it's  me." 

Jardine's  ringers  just  touched  the  yel 
low  kid  glove.  ' '  I  suppose, "  he  vent 
ured,  "you're  out  in  this  country  on 
sport." 

"Partly  sport,  dear  boy.  Chiefly 
business. " 

' '  Oh,  by  the  way, "  said  Jardine,  as  a 
recollection  struck  him,  ' '  I  haven't  for 
gotten  that  fifty  pounds  I  borrowed  from 
you  once.  I  did  not  know  where  to 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  7 

send  it  since  my  mother  mentioned  that 
your  father  had  been  left  money  and 
had  taken  his  family  to  town." 

' '  I  had  forgotten  it,  I  assure  you, " 
with  a  wave  of  one  ham-like  hand. 
' '  I  got  your  address  from  your  lawyers 
when  I  made  up  my  mind  to  come 
out  here.  Beastly  country,  isn't  it? 
And  why,  my  dear  Jack,  do  you  wear 
such  shocking  clothes?"  Jardine  red 
dened  at  the  familiarity.  Evidently 
Jennings  considered  that  the  democracy 
of  the  West  rendered  impertinence  per 
missible. 

"We  don't  require  fine  raiment 
here,"  he  explained  patiently. 

"But,"  persisted  Peter  Jennings, 
1 4 1  should  think  you'd  dress  as  we 
do  at  home,  once  in  a  while,  if  only 
to  astonish  the  natives." 

"I  shall  allow  you  that  privilege," 
Jardine  murmured  blandly. 

Peter  glanced  around  at  the  few  in 
dividuals  who  stood  grinning  at  him. 

"Indeed,"  he  gurgled,  pluming  him 
self,  "it  does  look  as  if  they'd  never 
seen  anyone  like  me  before." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"They  never  have,  Jennings,"  Jack 
assured  him,  "never!" 

They  walked  up  town  together. 
Jennings  was  curious  about  his  fellow 
passenger,  and  decidedly  enthusiastic. 

' '  Prettiest  girl  I've  seen  since  I  left 
England,  'pon  my  word.  I  must  say 
she  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  be  soci 
able,  though  I  shall  manage  to  be  reg 
ularly  introduced.  Never  would  have 
thought  you  people  out  here  would  be 
formal  about  such  things.  Hello!  what's 
this?"  Jardine  had  paused  before  a 
long,  low  frame  building.  At  the  door 
a  skinny  little  girl  was  beating  a  tin 
pan  vigorously  with  a  poker.  Jennings 
regarded  her  much  as  he  might  have 
done  a  trained  chimpanzee,  and  she  re 
turned  the  look  with  interest. 

"The  hotel,"  returned  Jardine. 

"It  is,  is  it?  Why  don't  you  ask 
me  to  your  place?" 

"I'm  positive  you  couldn't  endure  it. 
It's  only  an  apology  for  a  house.  A 
good  bit  out,  too.  Then  the  man  who 
does  my  work  can't  cook.  I'll  see  you 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  9 

again."    He  nodded  and  walked   off. 

"The  devilish  old  Jardine  pride," 
muttered  Jennings.  "He  can't  forget 
that  I'm  the  son  of  his  father's  butler." 

In  truth  Jardine  had  considered  that 
fact  less  than  that  the  man  who  had 
renewed  acquaintanceship  with  him  was 
ill-bred.  He  plunged  across  the  street 
to  a  small  frame  building  which  bore 
the  sign: 


PRIOR,  LYLE  &  DUDLEY, 

GRAIN  AND  REAL  ESTATE. 


Jardine  flung  open  the  door  and 
walked  in.  The  building  consisted  of 
two  rooms.  The  furniture  of  the  front 
room  was  a  high  desk,  that  was  half 
counter,  a  sheet-iron  stove,  a  couple  of 
chairs  and  a  lounge.  Cartoons  from  a 
political  paper  were  pinned  on  the 
walls.  A  sallow  little  man  sat  by  the 
window. 

"Prior,"  cried  Jardine,  "you  recol 
lect  that  girl  Mark  Dudley  told  us 


10  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

about — Rob  Lyle's  sister?  He  showed 
us  her  picture.  His  sweetheart,  you 
know. " 

Prior  looked  up  from  his  paper.  His 
eyes  had  a  trick  of  contracting  and  ex 
panding  like  the  eyes  of  a  cat. 

"What  about  her?'' 

"She  came  in  on  the  train,  just 
now." 

Prior  dropped  his  feet  from  the  chair 
back.  "Did,  eh?  She's  late  for  the 
funeral. " 

Jardine  pushed  his  hat  back  on  his 
neck,  and  stood  leaning  one  elbow  on 
the  high  counter.  ' '  Suppose, "  he  asked, 
looking  moodily  at  Prior,  '  'Rob  lets  out 
the  truth  sometime  when  he's  full — 
what  then?" 

Prior  cackled. 

' '  Oh,  trust  Lyle  to  hold  his  tongue 
about  that  business.  He's  got  sense 
enough  to  keep  still." 

A  wagon  laden  with  corn  rumbled 
on  the  scale  without.  Prior  rose  to 
weigh  it.  Jardine  sat  staring  out 
through  the  grimy  window.  Suddenly 
he  pulled  himself  up. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  II 

"I'm  off  for  a  ride,"  he  said,  and 
went  out.  Prior  glowered  after  him. 
"Confound  a  fellow  with  a  conscience 
anyhow,"  he  said. 

Jardine  saddled  his  horse  himself 
at  the  livery  barn  across  the  street, 
swung  into  the  saddle  and  turned  north. 
Past  the  hardware  store,  a  couple  of 
drug-stores,  the  postoffice — which  was 
also  the  general  store  and  harness  shop — 
by  a  few  box-like  residences,  up  the 
hill  he  went,  then  down  on  the  other 
side,  over  a  bridge,  and  off  across  the 
swelling  prairies.  It  was  an  afternoon 
in  early  December.  The  first  snow  of 
the  year  had  fallen  and  vanished,  and 
the  road,  roughened  by  successive  frost 
and  thaw,  stretched  before  in  irregular 
brown  ridges.  Overhead  and  toward 
the  east  the  sky  was  of  tenderest  blue, 
all  swirled  with  streaks  of  rose.  In 
the  creek  the  shallow  water  was  filmed 
with  ice.  "The  gentleness  of  rain 
was  in  the  wind."  To  the  skeleton 
trees  clung  leaves  of  shriveled  saffron. 
The  roadsides  were  rank  with  the  silveri- 


12  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

ness. of  thistledown,  the  sienna  of  with 
ered  goldenrod,  the  dun  tangle  of  dead  ' 
sunflowers.  Everywhere  was  sky  and 
prairie  and  silence  oppressive  to  sad 
ness.  A  ground  squirrel  sat  up,  then 
scurried  away.  A  covey  of  quails 
whirred  before  the  horse's  feet.  Shad 
ows  crept  stealthily  up  the  draws. 
An  amethystine  haze  softened  the 
outlines  of  the  bluffs. 

"Night,  by  Jove!  "  said  Jardine.  "  I 
must  get  back. "  He  wheeled  his  horse 
around  and  gave  it  a  pat  on  the  flank. 
The  animal  fell  into  a  long  lope,  and 
swiftly  bore  him  townward.  The  face 
of  the  girl  from  the  East  haunted  him. 
Its  persistent  presence  irritated  him. 
He  desired  to  see  her  again.  He 
wondered  if  Rob  had  since  appeared 
and  taken  her  out  of  town.  Perhaps 
she  had  hired  a  rig  and  gone  out  to 
him.  In  what  condition  would  she 
find  him? 

Away  to  the  east  as  he  rode  was 
vastness,  desolateness,  a  darkening  sky ; 
to  the  west  were  fields  flooded  with 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  13 

lemonish  light.  Over  these  an  ocean 
of  faintest  green  seemed  to  pulse  and 
intermerge,  an  ocean  that  was  rippled 
with  gold,  flecked  with  pearl  and 
blurred  with  a  vapory  violet. 

The  girl  with  the  tin  pan  and  the 
poker  was  beating  the  summons  to 
supper  when  he  went  into  the  ram 
bling  building  which  rejoiced  in  the  name 
of  ' '  The  Imperial  Hotel. "  The  only 
light  in  the  passage  came  from  a  door 
farther  down.  Jardine  almost  fell  over 
a  short  man,  a  chain  and  a  dog.  He 
apologized  absently  as  he  recognized 
Peter  Jennings.  He  had  forgotten  the 
existence  of  Peter  Jennings. 

' '  Had  to  come  back  to  town — on 
business,"  he  said.  "Have  you  had 
supper?" 

' '  I  ordered  dinner  served  in  my 
room,"  explained  a  miserable  voice, 
4 'but  the  people  laughed  at  me — 
actually  laughed  in  my  face.  So  I 
came  down  into  their — ah — dining-room, 
in  accordance  with  the  custom  here, 
but  I  was  obliged  to  leave.  The  food 


14  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

was  uneatable — quite  uneatable.  I  am 
going  out  to  find  a  restaurant." 

' '  You  won't  find  one, "  Jack  told  him. 
' '  When  men  in  this  town  want  a 
luncheon  they  go  into  a  store  and 
buy  some  crackers  and  cheese  or  a 
can  of  cove  oysters,  and  eat  there." 

Leaving  his  compatriot  aghast  and 
hungry,  he  passed  on  to  the  dining- 
room.  There  a  couple  of  malodorous 
lamps  flared.  Four  tables  were  clothed 
in  crumpled  red  cloths  and  half  cov 
ered  with  coarse  crockery.  On  the 
wall  hung  a  fly-specked  sign.  Its  re 
quest  the  season  rendered  unnecessary : 

"GENTLEMEN     WILL    PLESE    WEAR    COTES 
AT   TABEL." 

Jardine  took  a  seat.  Half  a  dozen 
grimy  section  hands  were  eating  at 
an  adjacent  table.  A  few  of  the  store- 
keeping  populace  appeared.  A  trio  of 
drummers  made  merry  together.  Rich 
ard  Prior  came  in  and  sat  down  next 
Jardine.  The  daughter  of  the  house, 
a  pretty  child,  whose  associations  had 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  15 

made  her  precociously  coquettish,  flut 
tered  around,  waiting  on  the  guests. 
The  unsavoriness  of  the  supper  was 
accentuated  by  its  accessories.  The  re- 
sistful  steak,  the  stewed  raisins  and  the 
bitter,  whitish  decoction  called  tea  were 
not  tempting.  Prior  ate  heartily.  Jar- 
dine  sat  silent  and  watched  the  door. 
Involuntarily  he  leaned  forward.  Prior 
also  looked  up.  A  young  girl,  unobtru 
sively  gowned,  was  standing  on  the 
threshold.  Her  face  was  attractive — 
the  features  delicate  and  piquantly  ir 
regular.  She  had  a  mass  of  tawny 
hair  and  a  clear,  pale  skin.  Large,  dark 
eyes  looked  out  from  under  thick,  black 
lashes  and  straight  black  brows. 

"Is  that  Mark's  sweetheart?"  whis 
pered  Prior. 

' '  Shut  up !  "  growled  Jardine,  and 
he  supplemented  his  command  by  a 
deep  and  fervent  curse  breathed  in 
Prior's  ear.  He  was  lighting  a  cigar 
in  the  office  when  the  landlady  came 
up  to  him.  "Oh,  Mr.  Jardine,  I've 
been  looking  for  you.  I  seen  you  go 


1 6  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

in  to  supper.  I'm  thinking  maybe 
you'll  drive  the  young  lady  that  came 
in  on  the  train  to-day  out  to  her  broth 
er's — Rob  Lyle's,  you  know." 

Jardine  looked  at  her  in  dismay. 

"The  teams  has  been  out'n  the  liv'ry 
all  afternoon  or  she'd  have  gone  before 
this.  Now  they  got  one  back,  but  Lame 
Jim  says  as  how  he's  promised  to  drive 
some  girls  over  to  a  dance  in  Kansas. 
Rob's  place  ain't  much  out'n  your  way, 
and  he  can  bring  in  the  team  to-mor 
row.  Will  you?" 

"I'd  rather  not,"  Jardine  returned 
decidedly.  "Doesn't  Lyle  expect 
her?" 

"No.  He  only  got  back  from  St. 
Joe  last  night.  He  was  looking  pretty 
bad — you  know." 

Jack  gave  a  grunt  of  disgust.  ' '  Oh, 
Lord,  yes,  I  know."  He  nibbled 
thoughtfully  at  the  end  of  his  cigar. 
"What  if  he's  keeping  up  the  spree? 
He  does  sometimes.  It  wouldn't  do  to 
take  her  out  there  in  that  case.  Let 
me  think  a  minute.  I  have  it,"  He 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  I? 

straightened  up  and  shied  his  cigar  at 
the  stove.  "I'll  drive  her  as  far  as 
Mc's,  and  leave  her  there  while  I  go 
up  and  find  out  how  Rob  is.  I'll  say 
he's  not  at  home  and  have  her  stay 
over  night  with  the  old  lady  if  he  hap 
pens  to  be  too  bad." 

"That's  a  good  plan.  Will  you  go 
in  and  see  her  now?  She's  in  the 
parlor. " 

Jardine  hesitated.  Then  he  said, 
"Yes,  I'll  see  her." 

A  minute  later  he  was  in  an  ugly 
little  room,  and,  with  a  feeling  akin 
to  cowardice  found  himself  bowing  to 
Ivera  Lyle. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"I  am  not  bound  to  please  thee  with  my  answers." 
— Merchant  of  Venice. 

'"THE  landlady  had  fumbled  over  an 
1  awkward  introduction  and  gone  out. 
Jardine  lifted  his  head.  Miss  Lyle  was 
regarding  him  with  an  expression  of 
dismayed  recognition. 

1 '  I  shall  be  glad  to  drive  you  out  to 
your  brother's,  Miss  Lyle,"  he  said. 
"I  have  known  Rob  since  I  came  out 
here  six  years  ago." 

' '  I  did  not  quite  catch  the  name  men 
tioned."  Jack  found  the  modulations 
of  her  voice  delicious,  after  those,  nasal 
or  strident,  to  which  he  had  become  ac 
customed.  "It  is  Jardine,  is  it  not?" 

"Jardine,"  he  replied, — "Jack  Jar- 
dine." 

The  look  she  still  bent  upon  him 
embarrassed  him.  It  possessed  a 

18 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  19 

mysterious  intimacy.  It  indicated  a 
certain  unfriendliness. 

"Yes?" 

Evidently  she  expected  him  to  say 
more.  He  flushed  darkly.  "It  is  just 
possible  Rob  may  have  spoken  of  me 
in  his  letter — he,  or  Mark  Dudley.  We 
were  close  friends."  Instantly  he  felt 
furious  with  himself  that  he  had  pre 
sumed  to  tell  her,  even  indirectly,  that 
he  was  aware  of  the  relation  she  had 
borne  to  Mark  Dudley. 

' '  Yes, "  said  the  soft  voice,  '  'they  both 
wrote  of  you.  I  recognized  you  at  once 
— but  not  by  any  description." 

"I — I  beg  your  pardon." 

"Later,  perhaps,  I  shall  tell  you 
how.  Can  you  give  me  any  particu 
lars  concerning  Mr.  Dudley's  death? 
I  did  not  receive  the  telegram  until 
two  days  after  the  funeral  took  place." 

"Oh,  there  was  a  mistake  about 
sending  the  message,"  Jardine  hastily 
assured  her.  "Rob  and  his  partner, 
Mr.  Prior,  each  supposed  I  had  sent  it. 
I  left  the  matter  to  them.  It  was  all 
so  very  sudden,  so — so  unexpected." 


20  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

With  a  slight  gesture  she  declined 
the  chair  he  had  placed  for  her. 

"It  was  sudden  I  know,  but — was 
it  unexpected?" 

"Dudley  was  ill  but  a  short  time," 
said  Jardine.  His  fine,  beardless 
face  had  lost  its  sudden  flush. 

"Had  he  a  doctor?" 

"He  had  consulted  a  physician. 
Eldridge — we  have  only  one  medical 
man  in  this  benighted  place — chanced 
to  be  out  of  town  when  the  case  de 
veloped.  When  he  returned  all  was 
over. " 

Gripping  the  top  bar  of  the  chair 
with  one  hand,  and  holding  his  old 
felt  hat  in  the  other,  Jardine  waited 
for  the  next  question.  It  came,  de 
liberately  as  the  others. 

"Was  there  an  inquest?" 

A  look  of  fear  flashed  across  his 
face.  Ivera  Lyle  saw  it.  An  in 
quest!  How  politely  judicial  she  was 
in  her  inquiries!  Somehow  she  made 
him  think  of  Portia  in  the  trial  scene ! 
And  he  had  been  dreading  a  meeting 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  21 

with  a  lovesick,  hysterical  girl.  "No, 
the  certificate  was  explicit  and  com 
prehensive.  An  inquest  was  not  con 
sidered  necessary."  A  silence  fol 
lowed.  They  could  hear  a  drummer, 
cordial  and  communicative,  stamping 
up  the  stairs  to  his  room.  Through 
the  thin  walls  there  came  from  the 
adjacent  building  the  querulous  wail 
of  a  sleepy  child. 

"I  hope  I  am  not  wearying  you," 
Miss  Lyle  said,  "but  what  is  the  rep 
utation  of  the  physician  who  issued 
the  certificate  of  death?" 

The  sinewy  hand  on  the  chair  back 
tightened  its  grip  until  the  knuckles 
showed  white.  "It  is  similar  to  that 
of  many  men  of  his  class  who  drift 
to  these  new  and  unsettled  Western 
towns." 

The  landlady  put  her  head  in  at 
the  door. 

' '  The  rig's  ready,  Mr.  Jardine.  You 
better  drive  fast  if  you  don't  want  a 
wetting.  Looks  like  'twas  going  to 
rain  cats  and  dogs."  Ten  minutes 


22  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

later  Jardine  helped  Miss  Lyle  into 
the  buggy  that  stood  before  the  hotel 
door.  The  rain  had  begun,  a  gentle 
mist  that  was  little  more  than  an  ex 
aggerated  dew.  Scattered  lights  twin 
kled  around  them  as  Jardine  wheeled 
the  horses  south.  A  red  glow  from 
the  window  of  a  small,  dark  building 
on  the  left  caught  the  girl's  eye. 
"Isn't  that  the  office — their  office? 
I  noticed  the  name  over  it  this  after 
noon." 

"Yes,  but  Rob  has  stayed  out  on 
the  farm  since — since  he  lost  Dudley. 
He  leaves  all  the  grain  business  to 
Prior,  now." 

"So  he  wrote  me.  Why  is  there 
a  light  at  this  hour?" 

"Oh,  Prior  is  at  some  of  his  con 
founded  experiments,  I  dare  say.  He 
is  one  of  those  inquisitive  devils  who 
are  eternally  delving  into  mysteries,  the 
sciences,  the  stars  and  all  the  isms. 
He  has  a  regular  laboratory  back  of 
the  office." 

He  turned  the  horses'  heads  west. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  23 

The  sprinkled  lights,  and  the  hilarity 
of  the  saloon  were  left  behind.  The 
two  faced  a  gusty  wind  and  a  pelting 
rain. 

' '  You  are  in  Kansas,  now,  Miss 
Lyle.  Bubble  is  on  the  state  line. 
We  drive  across  the  creek  and  are 
no  longer  in  Nebraska." 

"But  Rob  lives  in  Nebraska." 

"Oh,  yes,  well  double  back  after 
a  while.  You've  no  idea,  though,  how 
exciting  it  is  when  village  gossip  palls 
to  run  over  the  bridge  and  assure 
yourself  you've  been  taking  a  trip  out 
side  your  adopted  state." 

' '  Have  you  men  time  for  gossip  ?  " 

' '  None  whatever.  We  make  it — 
we  take  it.  It's  a  mild  dissipation  at 
the  best.  Can  you  drive  ?  " 

"When  I  can  see- -yes." 

"Take  the  reins  then,  please.  The 
seeing  doesn't  matter.  The  team  will 
keep  the  road  all  right." 

Miss  Lyle  obeyed  the  peremptory 
instructions.  He  leaned  down,  pulled 
up  a  rubber  covering,  secured  it  at 


24  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

her  side  and  then  at  his  own.  ' '  Now, " 
he  commanded,  as  he  took  the  reins 
from  her,  ' '  keep  well  down  under  that 
and  the  weather  won't  bother  you." 

"I  don't  mind  the  rain." 

It  was  coming  down  hard,  a  fierce, 
black,  winter  storm  straight  in  their 
teeth. 

' '  You've  got  to  mind  it, "  he  insisted, 
raising  his  voice  to  combat  the  wind. 
"Pull  that  rubber  up  to  your  eyes 
and  hold  it  there." 

The  team  were  floundering  up  an 
ill-cut  road  in  a  steep  bluff.  The  buggy 
careened  sideways  and  slipped  in  the 
mire  and  running  water. 

' '  Hold  on !  "  Jardine  shouted  encour 
agingly.  "We'll  be  at  the  top  pres 
ently.  It  isn't  bad  driving  after  that. 
Are  you  getting  wet?" 

"No." 

"Are  you  afraid?" 

"No." 

"Got  that  rubber  tucked  high?" 

"Yes." 

"All  right.  Go  ahead,  Star!  Get 
up,  Dash!" 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  25 

Slipping  and  sprawling,  the  horses 
ascended,  the  buggy  wavering  in  a 
serpentine  fashion  behind  them.  So 
uncertain  was  the  light  that  it  was 
with  a  sort  of  instinct  one  knew  that 
the  whitish  splash  on  the  right  was  the 
wall  of  a  cut  or  cliff — the  blackness 
on  the  left  the  depth  of  a  chasm.  A 
final  tug,  a  straining,  a  quick  jolt,  and 
the  team  were  on  the  level  ground 
and  moving  evenly  forward.  Here  on 
this  exposed  upland  the  cold  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  become  intense. 

"I'm  afraid  you'll  take  cold,"  Jar- 
dine  said.  ' '  I  wish  you  had  stayed 
at  the  hotel  until  morning." 

' '  One  might  as  well  rest  in  the 
booth  of  a  fair." 

"The  publicity  is  quite  glaring,  I 
admit.  You  must  not  expect  to  find 
Rob's  house  comfortable.  You  know 
he  lives  in  a  shack  and  does  his  own 
housekeeping. " 

"Cooking  and  all?" 

"Cooking  and  all." 

She  laughed   out.      ' '  How  funny — 


26  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

for  Rob.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine 
it.  He  was  such  a  fastidious  boy." 

"He  is  rather  the  reverse  of  fas 
tidious  now.  You  must  not  be  easily 
shocked. " 

"I  shan't."  The  airy  confidence  of 
the  words  made  his  heart  sink.  "I 
expected  to  rough  it  when  I  came 
out  here." 

There  was  a  lull  in  the  storm.  The 
horses  plowed  through  a  wet,  high 
growth  that  rattled  and  crackled  sharp 
ly  under  the  floor,  against  the  sides, 
and  on  the  roof  of  the  buggy. 

"Are  we  off  the  road?"  asked  Ivera 
Lyle. 

"No — just  passing  through  a  clump 
of  sunflowers.  Like  the  poor,  we  have 
them  always  with  us.  They  are  al 
most  as  troublesome  dead  as  alive." 

The  vehicle  jolted  down  a  hill. 
Below  a  light  was  twinkling  through 
the  rain. 

"Is  that  Rob's  place?" 

"No,  that's  McLelland's.  It's  a  lit 
tle  dug-out  scooped  in  a  bluff.  It  re- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  27 

joices,  however,  in  a  stone  front.  I'm 
going  to  leave  you  there  till  I  find 
out  if  Rob  is  at  home.  His  place  is 
on  the  next  section." 

"Why  can't  I  go  straight  on  with 
you?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"Rob  may  not  be  there." 

"The  woman  at  the  hotel  said  he 
got  in  from  St.  Joe  last  evening." 

'  'But  he  has  some  law  business  to  at 
tend  to  at  the  county  seat.  He  may 
have  driven  there  to-day.  You  will 
wait  here  until  I  find  out."  He  was 
driving  down  a  zigzag  declivity,  di 
rectly  toward  the  light. 

"Well!"  Miss  Lyle  gave  a  little 
gasp.  "Are  you  not  a  trifle  auto 
cratic,  Mr.  Jardine?" 

"We  are  everything  that  is  repre 
hensible  in  this  country,  Miss  Lyle," 
he  assured  her  gravely.  "Hello,  there!" 
In  the  frame  of  yellow  light,  almost 
blocking  up  the  doorway  appeared  the 
huge  form  of  an  old  woman. 

"Who's  that?"  she  called  in  a  sharp 
voice.  "I  know  the  team  but  I  don't 
know  you." 


28  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Don't  know  me,  Mrs.  Me?" 
"It  ain't  you,  Mr.  Jardine?" 
"Oh,    but    it     is.     Who-a,     there, 
Dash!     Now,    Miss    Lyle."     He    had 
jumped  out.     Holding  the  reins  in  one 
hand  he  extended  the  other  to  the  oc 
cupant  of  the  buggy. 

"I  submit  under  protest,  Mr.  Jar- 
dine." 

"Oh,  but  you  do  submit.  Take 
my  arm.  This  way — here  we  are! 
Mrs.  McLelland,  this  is  Miss  Lyle, 
Rob's  sister.  She  came  in  from  the 
East  to-day,  and  could  not  get  a  rig 
to  come  out  until  this  uncomfortable 
hour.  Rob  may  not  be  home.  You'll 
give  her  a  cup  of  tea,  I  know,  while 
I  find  out." 

"To  be  sure  I  will.  Come  right 
in,  Miss  Lyle.  Rainin'  like  all's  out, 
ain't  it?  What  part  air  you  from? 
Chicago?  Dear  me,  you  don't  say! 
I'm  that  glad  to  see  you.  I'm  from  Chi 
cago  myself,  so  we're  fellow  citizens,  you 
might  say.  Leastwise,  I  lived  within 
a  hundred  an'  twenty  mile  of  Chicago 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  29 

for  two  year  onct  myself.  Going, 
Mr.  Jardine?  You  don't  need  to 
hurry.  I'm  a  settin'  up  fur  Pa.  He's 
a-helpin'  tend  to  old  Smiley's  corpse. 
You  know  what  a  hand  Pa  is  for 
corpses,  Mr.  Jardine.  Pa,"  she  ex 
plained  affably  as  the  door  closed  be- 
him  Jardine,  "is  the  best  layer-out 
you  ever  see.  Not  that  he's  in  the 
business  or  ever  has  been,  though  he 
expects  to  be  soon,  seein'  there's  an 
openin'  in  Bubble.  There  can't  be  a 
corpse  fur  twenty  mile  around  that 
Pa  don't  help  tend  to.  Just  seems  to 
have  a  natural  genius  that  way.  It's 
a  fine  thing  to  have  genius.  I  got 
some  myself  fur  salt-riz  biscuits  an' 
chicking  pot-pie.  Ef  you'll  hand  over 
that  basket  of  cobs — my  legs  ain't 
what  they  was  an'  stoopin'  is  awful 
plausible  on  a  body — this  fire'll  be 
a-bellerin'  in  no  time." 

While  she  talked,  and  Ivera,  forget 
ting  her  indignation  toward  Jardine  for 
compelling  her  to  remain  behind,  lis 
tened,  amused  and  interested,  the  man 


30  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

» 

who  had  brought  her  drove  furiously 
westward  along  the  muddy  road.  He 
drew  up  before  a  blacker  patch  in 
the  pervading  blackness.  He  sprang 
out  and  walked  rapidly  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  house  that  stood  back 
from  the  road.  The  front  door  would 
not  yield,  so  he  went  around  to  that 
in  the  rear.  Its  handle  turned  read 
ily.  He  went  in. 

"Rob!"  he  called.  "Oh,  I  say, 
Lyle!" 

Not  a  sound. 

Jardine  fumbled  in  his  pocket  till 
he  found  a  match.  He  struck  it  and 
lighted  a  lamp  that  stood  on  the  table. 
The  light  revealed  a  small,  bare  room, 
a  dirty  table,  on  which  was  some  stale 
bread  and  bologna  sausage,  and  a  low 
stove  that  was  white  with  ashes.  Jar- 
dine  passed  into  the  front  room,  the 
lamp  in  his  hand.  Here  a  boy  lay 
asleep  on  a  lounge.  Some  flashy  papers 
and  a  couple  of  empty  flasks  were  on 
a  chair  at  his  elbow.  Jardine  leaned 
down  and  shook  him. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  3 1 

' '  Lyle !  Look  here,  I  say !  Wake 
up!  Your  sister  is  down  at  Mc's. 
She'll  be  here  directly."  The  recum 
bent  young  form  limply  swayed  into 
a  sitting  posture.  A  flushed,  weak, 
handsome  face  from  under  a  tumbled 
mass  of  light  brown  hair  gazed  stu 
pidly  up  at  Jardine. 

' '  Eh  ? "  with  a  hazy  smile.  '  'What's 
up,  Jack?" 

Jardine  looked  around  the  dreary 
room  in  silence,  and  then  back  at  the 
vaguely-smiling  countenance  of  Rob 
Lyle.  He  pulled  off  his  overcoat. 
"Come  on,"  he  said. 

"Where,  Jack?" 

"  Come  on." 

He  caught  Lyle  by  the  arm.  The 
boy  resisted.  Jardine  yanked  him  up 
and  forcibly  propelled  him  toward  the 
kitchen.  Here  he  relaxed  his  hold 
for  an  instant  to  light  the  lantern 
hanging  on  the  wall. 

"What  in  thunder  are  you  up  to?" 
blurted  Lyle. 

Jardine   took  up  the  lantern  on  his 


32  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

arm  and  pulled  Rob  outside  the  back 
door.  Guided  by  the  sound  of  rush 
ing  water,  he  dragged  him  to  the 
corner  of  the  house.  From  a  pipe 
into  a  huge  rain-barrel  the  waters  of 
the  roof  gutter  were  chug,  chugging 
down  at  a  great  rate.  Jardine  set 
down  the  lantern,  picked  up  Lyle  and 
deposited  him,  head  downward,  in  the 
rain-barrel.  He  jerked  him  up  in  a 
minute,  sputtering  and  swearing. 

' '  The  d-de-devil  take  you !  "  howled 
Lyle.  "Wh-what  did  I  ever  do  to 
you,  anyhow  ?  " 

"See  here,  I've  told  you  your  sis 
ter  is  coming  up  here  to-night.  You 
go  in  now  and  build  a  fire,  and  *get 
rid  of  those  bottles  and  straighten' up 
generally.  You  understand?  "  :; 

"What  brought  her  out  West?" 

"Ask  her.  Will  you  mind  what  I 
told  you?" 

Another  ducking  seemed  imminent. 
Rob  retreated  to  a  safe  distance. 

"I'll  get  an  attack  of  pneumonia 
out  of  this,  confound  you." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  33 

"You'll  get  a  thrashing  if  you  let 
that  little  girl  find  out  what  a  beast 
you  are!"  Jardine  promised  cordially. 

He  flung  around  to  the  road  and 
drove  back  to  McLelland's. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  Are  these  things  spoken?     Or  do  I  but  dream?" 

—  Much  Ado  Aboiit  Nothing. 


^IXT'ELL,  what  do  you  think  of 
VV  it,  Ive?"  asked  Rob  Lyle. 

He  had  come  to  the  door  where 
his  sister  was  standing,  and  had  dropped 
his  arm  around  her  shoulders  in  half 
indifferent,  half  affectionate,  brotherly 
fashion. 

"It  is  different  from  what  I  imag 
ined.  I've  always  thought  of  Nebraska 
as  level.  I  find  its  prairies  are  like 
the  waves  of  a  subsiding  sea."  She 
was  looking  out  across  the  billowy  un 
dulations  all  plaided  with  the  dull 
amber  of  cornstalks,  the  vivid  green 
of  winter  wheat,  the  delicate  daffodil 
of  withered  grass. 

"It  is  level,  in  spots,  "  he  returned, 
laughing.  "This  doesn't  happen  to 
be  one  of  the  spots." 

34 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  35 

"But  what  weather!   It  is  like  May." 

"Yes.  The  climate  is  like  the  land 
— delightful  and  detestable." 

It  was  an  idyllic  morning,  the  sky 
blue  and  luminous,  the  earth  wearing 
a  fresh- washed  face,  the  air  crisp  and 
caressing.  There  were  shifting,  sil 
very  hazes  on  the  distant  bluffs,  and 
to  one  city  bred  the  absolute  absence 
of  sound  was  by  contrast  strangely 
restful. 

"I  like,"  the  girl  said,  "the  things 
out  here  that  God  made.  I  don't 
like  those  you  men  have  made." 

' '  Meaning  my  stately  residence  ?  " 

"That  —  the  town — many  things. 
The  house  would  not  be  so  bad,  if — " 

"Speak  on,  oh,  critic  from  the  effete 
East!" 

' '  Such  polished  sarcasm  disarms 
me." 

' '  That's  right.  Grind  your  heel  into 
a  fellow  when  he's  down." 

"Well,  the  house  wouldn't  be  so 
bad  if  it  were — " 

' '  Clean  and  well-ordered. " 


36  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

' '  Please  don't  interrupt.  Little  boys 
never  should.  I  didn't  say  that.  I 
wouldn't  put  it  that  way." 

' '  Don't  hesitate.  We  who  enter  here 
leave  sensitiveness  behind — with  other 
unnecessary  emotions.  Seriously,  what 
does  a  child  like  you  know  about  house 
keeping?" 

' '  You  forget  that  I  have  been  keep 
ing  house  for  Uncle  James  for  several 
years. " 

"On  Michigan  boulevard?" 

"Yes." 

1 '  With  how  many  servants  ? " 

"Five." 

"And  carte  blanche  as  to  expense?" 

"Of  course." 

"Then  you  are  fully  qualified  to 
become  the  mistress  of  a  Nebraska 
farm." 

"I'm  fully  qualified  to  inform  you 
that  the  toast  keeping  hot  in  the  oven 
will  be  dried  into  leather  if  we  don't 
go  in  and  eat  it." 

"Well,"  he  capitulated  across  his 
coffee,  "this  is  something  like." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  37 

"Like  what?  You  are  explicit!" 

' '  Like  comfort. " 

She  glanced  significantly  and  silently 
around. 

"Oh,  as  for  that,"  Rob  said,  in  a 
glow  resultant  on  the  fellowship,  the 
propinquity,  the  morning  and  the  meal, 
"as  for  that,  I'll  ride  over  to  McLel- 
land's  after  breakfast  and  see  if  she 
can't  hunt  up  a  helper  for  you.  If  any 
one  can  the  old  lady  is  that  individual." 

' '  Mrs.  McLelland  ?  The  undertaker's 
wife  ?  " 

"Oh,  Lord!"  roared  Rob.  "Has 
she  been  rubbing  that  into  you  already  ? 
Dear  girl,  you  are  anticipating  events. 
She  isn't  an  undertaker's  wife.  She 
is  a  farmer's  wife.  But  this  particular 
farmer  has  given  many  prophetic  hours 
out  of  his  prosaic  existence  to  the  proud 
day  when  he  should  own  a  hearse  and 
share  honors  with  the  officiating  clergy 
man  at  funerals.  This  hope  has  been 
bourgeoning  in  the  mind  of  his  wife 
also.  It  has  flowered  for  your  benefit." 

"You   are   right.     I    recollect   now 


38  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

that  she  only  said  her  husband  was 
about  to  buy  out  an  undertaking  busi 
ness."  She  rose,  poured  water  in  the 
singing  tea-kettle  and  came  back  to 
the  table.  "You'll  get  my  trunk  to 
day,  Rob?  It  is  at  the  hotel." 

"I  will,  my  dear."  He  was  eyeing 
approvingly  her  trig  traveling  costume. 
"Our  prairie  damsels  don't  dress  like 
that,  Ive." 

' '  You  haven't  asked  me  why  I  came 
West." 

"It  is  enough  to  know  you  are  here. " 

' '  What  a  gallant  speech !  And  to 
think  of  it  wasted  on  your  sister." 

"I  suppose  that,  rinding  yourself 
Uncle  James'  heiress,  you  decided  to 
let  the  light  of  your  countenance  shine 
upon  your  exiled  brother." 

"It  grows  worse  and  worse!  Upon 
whom  have  you  been  practicing  your 
flatteries,  Rob?  The  unfortunate  girl 
has  my  sincere  compassion.  Seriously, 
Uncle's  death  gave  me  the  opportu 
nity  to  travel,  but  I  have  been  wanting 
to  come  West  since,"  she  hesitated, 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  39 

' '  since  September. "     There  was  an  odd 
change  in  her  voice. 

' '  I  should  not  think  you  would  care 
to  come  on  account  of  Mark's  death." 

"That  is  the  reason  I  came." 

He  looked  at  her  blankly.  "I  don't 
understand  you,  Ivera." 

She  stood  up  and  busied  herself  with 
the  dishes.  "I  can't  explain  now — 
in  the  morning — in  such  sunshine." 

"Is  your  reason  so  mysterious  and 
uncanny,"  he  asked,  laughing,  "that 
it  may  be  whispered  only  in  midnight 
darkness  and  elemental  turmoil?" 

"Don't!"  she  entreated. 

He  looked  at  her,  his  brows  knit, 
and  was  silent. 

Suddenly  the  sunshine  was  shut  out. 
A  huge  shadow  wavered  across  the 
floor.  A  mighty  tread  set  the  dishes 
dancing.  A  gigantic  form,  gowned  in 
clean  and  crackling  calico,  loomed  up 
before  them.  A  square,  clean-cut, 
alert,  shrewd  old  face  beamed  down 
upon  them. 

"Well,  if   it   isn't   Mrs.  Me!"   cried 


40  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Rob,  jumping  up  and  setting  a  chair 
for  her. 

Slowly,  with  great  care  and  deliber 
ation,  the  old  lady  let  herself  sink  on 
the  seat. 

"It's  them  legs  of  mine,"  she  ex 
plained. 

"Yes,"  murmured  Miss  Lyle,  po 
litely  but  vaguely. 

"Them  legs  of  mine,"  continued 
Mrs.  McLelland,  "is  the  worst  legs. 
I  soak  'em  in  coal  oil,  an'  I  rub  'em 
with  turpentine.  Pa  kin  tell  you  I 
used  up  seven  bottles  of  Shinsquinicook 
Indian  Infallible  Remedy  on  'em,  an' 
they're  that  stiff  and  hurtful  yet  I  say 
to  Pa  sometimes  I  wish  I  was  like 
that  cobbler  down  to  Bubble  that  sup 
ports  a  fambly  on  one  leg — he  ain't  got 
two  to  bother  with  ef  they  git  feelin' 
mean  like  mine  does." 

Ivera  smiled  sympathetically.  Rob 
nodded  and  agreed,  ' '  That's  so, "  with 
much  gravity. 

"But  it  wasn't  about  them  legs  I 
come  up  to  see  you,"  their  neighbor 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  41 

proceeded.  "I  got  to  thinkin'  after 
you  drove  off  last  night  that  you  was 
the  very  person  that  could  decide  a 
p'int  between  Mis'  Stebbins  an'  me. 
It's  a  question  of  etiquette." 

"If  you'll  excuse  me,"  Rob  said, 
rising,  "I'll  go  out  to  the  barn  a  while. 
I'm  not  in  it,  you  know,  when  it 
comes  to  a  question  of  etiquette." 

"Oh,  g'long!"  consented  Mrs.  McLel- 
land,  contemptuously. 

The  young  fellow  laughingly  took 
his  departure.  Mrs.  McLelland  firmly 
planted  her  cane — a  sawed  off  broom 
stick — and  clasped  her  two  big,  brown, 
sinewy,  hard-worked  old  hands  on  top 
of  it 

"You  see  my  niece  was  married 
two  weeks  ago,  an'  we  give  her  a 
oyster  weddin'.  There  was  a  oyster 
supper  over  to  the  Presbyterian  church 
in  Kansas,  an"'  me  an'  Pa  went.  We 
hadn't  ett  sence  noon.  Twenty-five 
cents  a  supper  was  charged.  I  ain't 
sayin'  it  was  too  much  seein'  Pa  demol 
ished  three  plates  of  oysters  an'  I  ab- 


42  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

sorbed  four,  an'  considerin'  the  pie  an' 
the  pickles,  which  was  throwed  in,  so 
to  speak.  All  the  oysters  wasn't  used, 
as  I  had  suspicioned  they  mightn't  be, 
so  I  says  to  Pa:  'You  go  out  to  the 
wagon,  Pa,  an'  you'll  find  the  one- 
quart  can  an'  the  two  quart  pitcher  hid 
under  the  Rising  Sun  quilt.  We'll  give 
our  niece  a  oyster  wedding.'  So  out 
Pa  goes  an'  back  he  comes  with  the 
one-quart  can  an'  the  two-quart  pitcher. 
When  the  lights  is  bein'  put  out  I  goes 
to  a  committee  woman  an'  I  says, 
'What  air  you  goin'  to  do  with  them 
Oysters  you  got  left  ?'  Says  she,  'I  don't 
hardly  know.'  Says  I  to  her,  'They 
air  not  particular  desirable  to  us,  not 
bein'  on  the  half  shell,  the  way  Pa  pro 
fesses  the  most  amenity  fur  them,  but 
seein'  that  they're  left  on  your  hands, 
an'  that  I  believe  in  patronizin1  them 
that  labors  fur  the  Lord,  I'll  take  'em, 
an'  pay  you  twenty  cents  a  quart  fur 
'em.'  She  says,  'Twenty-five  at  least — 
they  cost  us  thirty.'  But  I  answers, 
'  'Twenty  an'  not  another  cent.  My  mind 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  43 

is  fixed  on  that  firm  ez  the  tail  is  set  in 
the  cat.  We  ain't  paved  with  gold, '  I 
says.  So  we  took  the  superficial  bee- 
valves  home,  an'  when  Eleolanda  was 
married  we  had  a  spread.  Oyster  soup 
an'  vinegar  pie,  cookies  an'  cold  slaw, 
and  salt-riz  biscuits." 

She  paused  to  draw  breath — a  long 
breath  of  triumphant  retrospection. 
The  girl  opposite  gazed  at  her  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

"That  must  have  been  a  supper!" 
she  declared  with  emphasis. 

"It  was,"  impressively.  "When 
everything  was  ready  I  steps  to  the  door 
of  the  other  room — we  ain't  got  but  two, 
exceptioning  the  loft,  an'  I  seen  that  all 
the  guests  was  sittin'  quiet  an'  peace 
able  close  to  the  wall,  just  as  orderly 
as  anything  you  ever  see — an'  I  says: 
'The  Reverend  Mr.  and  the  Reverend 
Mrs.  McGrew!'  Then  I  calls,  'Mr.  an' 
Mrs.  Tobias  Fry' — his  folks,  you  know. 
And  then  I  says:  'Mr.  Amos  Zinklean' 
Miss  Amberiller  Jones.'  Wasn't  that 
right?" 


44  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Right?"  echoed  Miss  Lyle,  with  a 
rising  inflection  that  expressed  astonish 
ment  such  a  question  should  be  con 
sidered  necessary.  The  old  lady  leaned 
back  in  her  chair,  and  laughed  with 
a  heartiness  that  brought  the  blood 
warmly  into  her  tan-colored  cheeks. 

'  'I  knowed  you'd  think  so.  I  did  my 
self  when  they  come  a-walkin'  out  to 
supper,  stiff  as  soldiers,  an'  not  speakin' 
above  their  breaths.  But  while  they 
was  partakin'  up  comes  approachin'  me 
Mrs.  Stebbins — the  little  one  with  the 
black  eyes  an'  the  turn-up  nose.  I  fur- 
got  you  don't  know  her,  not  bein'  in 
sassiety  here  yet.  She  says  to  me:  'Mrs. 
McLelland,  that-a-way  ain't  customary 
among  the  four  hundred.  The  lady  re- 
ceivin'  should  not  invite  the  guests  to 
partake.  Such  is  the  office  of  a  meenial. ' 
I  says  to  her,  an'  I  felt  myself  a-growin : 
'  Mis '  Stebbins,  permit  me  the  animos 
ity  of  counteractin '  your  remarks.  Mine 
is  the  reliable  receipt,'  I  says,  an'  I 
seen  she  was  a-shrivelin,  'onless — on- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  45 

less,'  I  says,  'you  employ  a  butler  in 
the  fambly.'" 

She  paused,  panting  —  exhausted, 
majestic,  superior,  superb. 

Ivera  laughed — laughed  as  she  had 
not  for  months,  for  the  few  years  since 
her  childhood  ended.  Rob,  currying 
the  horses,  heard  the  gay",  sweet,  child 
ish  chiming  of  irrepressible  mirth,  and 
smiled. 

' '  There ! "  shouted  Mrs.  McLelland, 
' '  I  knowed  it — I  knowed  it !  I  told  Pa 
you'd  say  I  was  right.  You  don't  need 
to  utter  one  single  consonant. "  Her  cach- 
innations,  following  the  young  laugh 
ter,  sounded  like  a  grotesque  echo. 
' '  I  was  sure  you'd  agree  with  me,  fur 
ef  I  do  live  in  Nebrasky,  I  ain't  always 
done  it.  I  read  the  Washington  sas- 
siety  news  every  week  regular  in  the  in 
side  of  the  Dry  Creek  Chronicle.  I 
didn't  think  when  it  came  to  knowledge 
of  etiquette  that  any  little  snub-nose 
Stebbins  could  superannuate  me.  An' 
I  see  you  know  it,  too." 

Confronted  by  the   responsibility  of 


46  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

deciding  a  question  of  such  stupen 
dous  social  importance,  the  girl  was 
silent.  Her  eyes  shone  and  her  red 
lips  were  mutinously  mirthful. 

"We  ain't  got  no  affinity  sence, " 
Mrs.  McLelland  explained,  lifting  her 
self  laboriously  erect  and  leaning  very 
hard  indeed  on  the  broomstick  cane. 
' '  Her  husband  was  elected  town  clerk  in 
Bubble,  but  I  never  heerd  it.  Her 
'  Court-house  Steps '  quilt  is  done,  but 
she  ain't  got  through  yet — for  all  I  know. 
Ef  Pa  buys  out  the  undertakin'  busi 
ness,  an'  gits  a  fine  hearse  like  he  talks 
of,  I  hope  she  won't  never  git  to  ride 
in  it,  fur  she  don't  deserve  it/" 

' '  I  don't  really  think  she  does, "  Miss 
Lyle  agreed  seriously. 

"To  think,"  appealed  Mrs.  McLel 
land,  "of  a  little,  flirty  thing  that  ain't 
never  been  out  of  Nebrasky  or  Kansas 
a-criterionin '  me!  M-e!  That  lived  fur 
two  year  only  a  hundred  an '  twenty 
mile  from  Chicago." 

' '  It  was  a  rash  thing  to  do, "  Miss 
Lyle  assented. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  47 

Her  visitor  shot  her  a  keen  glance, 
but  she  was  smiling  seraphically. 

' '  Good-bye.  No,  don't  call  Rob 
Lyle.  I  can  get  into  that  low  rig 
alone .  But,  look  here ! "  She  straight 
ened  up  and  shook  one  imperious  fore 
finger.  "  I'm  goin'  to  tell  Pa  ef  any  of 
them  Stebbins'  hens  comes  over  on  our 
half  section,  to  flop  somethin'  after 
'em,  even  if  it's  one  of  our  corn-cobs, 
though  fuel  is  dear  just  now,  owin'  to 
the  railroad  strike,  though  why  men 
can't  resign  theirselves  to  the  inimi 
table  surpasses  me.  Even  an  empty 
lye-can  shied  at  one  of  'em  would  con 
vey  my  contumely  fur  a  woman  who 
ain't  never  lived  within  one  hundred 
an '  twenty  mile  of  Chicago,  and  don't 
understand  the  embonpoint  of  a  ques 
tion  of  etiquette." 

"Going,  Mrs.  Me?"  cried  Rob, 
coming  in.  "I'm  off  for  Bubble,  my 
self.  I'll  drive  you  as  far  as  you  go." 

"I'm  not  thanking  anyone  to  drive 
me, "returned  Mrs.  McLelland,  stiffly. 


48  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"If  them  legs  of  mine  will  let  me  git 
in  the  buggy,  I  kin  git  home." 

Rob  looked  toward  his  sister.  ' '  Have 
you  asked  her  about  getting  help  ? " 

' '  No.  Do  you  know  where  I  can 
get  a  servant,  Mrs.  McLelland?" 

"A — servant?" 

"Yes,  Rob  thinks  I  ought  to  have 
help,  and — " 

"Oh,  help — yes,"  the  old  lady  re 
turned  briskly.  ' '  I  thought  you  said 
a  servant.  We  ain't  got  servants  in 
Nebrasky.  Sometimes  we  git  help. 
You  g'long,  Rob  Lyle,  '  n '  unhitch  that 
pony. " 

Rob  obediently  went. 

"I  think  you  might  be  able  to  git 
Moll  Chourka.  Her  mother  could  mind 
the  baby  while  she  went  away." 

"I   believe   I   would  rather  have  a 
young    girl,"   Ivera    ventured    gently 
' '  I'm  not  very  old  myself  and  a  mar 
ried  woman  might  be  tyrannical,  you 
know. " 

She  smiled  deprecatingly.  She  was 
beginning  to  discover  that  there  were 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  49 

elements  to  reconcile  and  prejudices 
to  conciliate  in  this  new  and  sparsely 
populated  world. 

' '  Oh,  she's  a  young  girl.  She  ain't 
married." 

"But — I  thought  you  said — "  She 
broke  off  helplessly. 

4 'The  baby?  Land,  yes."  Mrs.  Mc- 
Lelland  laughed.  ' '  Oh,  she's  a  young 
girl  all  right — jest  turned  seventeen. 
She's  the  one  Mark  Dudley  thrun  over." 

Miss  Lyle's  lips  opened,  but  no  sound 
came  from  them. 

1 '  Mark — Dudley  ? "  she  said  at  length. 

' '  Yes,  don't  know  ef  you  was  ac 
quainted  with  him.  Him  an'  your 
brother  was  awful  thick.  Died  a  while 
back.  You  must  have  got  a  chill  last 
night,  you're  that  white.  I'm  much 
obliged  to  you  f ur  .settlin '  that  question 
of  etiquette  between  me  an'  Mis'  Steb- 
bins.  Good-bye ! " 

"Good-bye,"  replied  Ivera,  and  she 
laughed.  But  this  time  the  laugh  had 
not  the  sound  of  a  brook  in  spring 
time. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

"  Do  you  hear,  Monsieur  ?    A  word  with  you  !" 

— All 's  Well  that  Ends  Well. 

OUBBLE  boomed.  Its  growth  was 
D  like  unto  that  of  the  Biblical  gourd. 
There  was  talk  of  running  a  regular 
passenger  coach  through.  Stone  quar 
ries  were  opened  up  in  the  midst  of 
the  stubbly  cornfields.  Powerful  horses 
dragged  huge  loads  of  rock  to  the 
waiting  freight  cars.  Teams  lumbered 
slowly  in  over  the  rough  roads,  haul 
ing  thousands  of  bushels  of  corn  to 
the  elevator.  The  drivers  sat  sideways 
on  the  yellow  heaps,  or  slouched  along 
beside  the  horses.  The  raw  frame 
buildings  multiplied.  In  the  grayness 
of  dawn  white-covered  wagons  loomed 
like  gigantic  mushrooms.  A  second 
saloon  divided  honors  with  the  Owl- 
King.  From  a  third  building  came  the 
50 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  51 

sociable  sound  of  clicking  billiard  balls. 
A  rumor  that  a  jail  was  to  be  erected 
and  a  resident  evangelist  supported 
found  favor  among  a  few,  although 
these  metropolitan  possibilities  were  of 
the  vaguest  and  most  remote  charac 
ter.  Changes  were  continually  occur 
ring.  One  was  the  formation  of  a 
partnership  between  Jardine  and  Jen 
nings.  Robert  Lyle  told  his  sister  about 
it  when  he  came  out  from  town  one 
evening.  "They  are  a  queer  pair  to 
strike  up  such  a  deal,"  he  concluded. 
' '  I  suppose  the  truth  of  the  mat 
ter  is  that  Jardine  needs  money  for 
some  of  his  ambitious  schemes,  and 
this  Jennings  has  heaps  of  what  the 
immortal  Avon  man  calls  'trash.'  Jen 
nings  ought  to  keep  his  eyes  peeled." 
They  were  in  the  little  kitchen  which 
had  taken  on  a  cleanliness  and  a  cozi- 
ness  wonderfully  at  variance  with  its 
appearance  on  Ivera's  first  introduction 
to  it.  She  was  setting  the  table.  A 
big  white  apron  was  tied  over  her  gown 


52  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

of  soft  crimson.  She  looked  quickly 
up  at  her  brother. 

"Why?  Don't  you  consider  Mr. 
Jardine  honorable?" 

"Honorable?  Oh,  Lord,  yes.  One 
couldn't  use  the  other  word  to  him. 
But  he  knows  what  is  going  to  benefit 
Jack  Jardine  every  time,  and  he  gen 
erally  gets  it." 

' '  I  understood  you  were  a  friend  of 
his,  you  and — " 

"And  Mark?  Yes,  we  hung  together 
pretty  closely  until — oh,  well  it's  of  no 
consequence  now.  Supper  almost 
ready,  dear  ?" 

"Almost — I  think  it's  of  some  con 
sequence.  Tell  me,  Rob." 

"Oh,  it  was  after  Mark  and  I  took 
Prior  into  the  grain  business.  They 
got  down  on  Jardine.  They  were 
younger,  of  course,  and  he  was  a  bit 
high  and  mighty,  they  thought.  I 
rather  sided  with  them,  I  admit.  That 
quail  smells  tempting." 

"There  was  a  quarrel,   then?" 

She  asked  the  question  without  turn- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  53 

ing  from  the  stove,  where  she  was  put 
ting  the  plump  brown  birds  on  a  little 
platter.  He  laughed  shortly  as  he  hung 
his  hat  on  a  nail  behind  the  door. 

"A  quarrel?  Oh,  no.  What  put 
that  in  your  head?  There  was  a  dif 
ference  of  opinion — nothing  more." 

"But  it  destroyed  your  pleasant 
friendship. " 

"That  is  rather  an  extravagant  way 
of  putting  it,  dear.  Prior  and  I  are 
very  good  comrades  yet.  Jardine  and 
I  speak  when  we  meet.  I  don't  go 
out  of  the  way  to  meet  him,  though." 

"Merely  that?"  Her  dark  brows 
went  up  slightly.  ' '  I  presumed  on 
your  intimacy  then,  when  I  permitted 
him  to  drive  me  out." 

Robert's  fair,  boyish  face  flushed. 
He  laughed  silently  until  he  choked 
over  his  quail. 

' '  Oh,  I  say,  I  wouldn't  bother  about 
that, "  he  advised  from  behind  his  nap 
kin.  "I've  no  doubt  he  insisted  on 
bringing  you.  He's  an  intrusive  devil 
sometimes.  He  has  come  here  when 


54  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

he  wasn't  asked — or  wanted, "  concluded 
Rob,  recollecting  how  cold  it  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  rain-barrel. 

' '  And  been — disagreeable  ?" 

Young  Lyle  choked  again.  He  rose 
hastily  and  went  to  the  pail  for  a  drink. 

"Well,  he  has  acted  in  a  way  to 
make  a  fellow  chilly — downright  shivery 
— that's  the  only  word  to  describe  his 
conduct,  on  my  honor.  You  take  quite 
an  interest  in  Jardine,  Ive." 

"Yes — I  do.  May  I  give  you  more 
tea?" 

"No  more,  thanks.  Why  are  you 
interested?  He  isn't  accounted  much 
of  a  lady's  man  out  here." 

"A  lady's  man — out  here?" 

He  laughed  at  the  scornful  signifi 
cance  of  her  tone. 

"Well,  he'd  hardly  be  anywhere," 
Rob  continued,  in  the  arrogance  of  his 
youth.  "He  isn't  young,  you  know. 
He's  thirty-six  if  he's  a  day.  He  isn't 
attractive — at  least  I  can't  fancy  how 
he  could  be  considered  so  with  those 
confoundedly  indifferent  manners  of 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  55 

his.  It  may  be  only  that  he's  exclu 
sive.  We  resent  exclusiveness  on  the 
plains.  He's  reckless.  We  admire  that. 
But  whether  we  resent  or  admire  makes 
no  earthly  difference  to  Jack  Jardine." 

"You  have  identified  yourself  with 
the  people  out  here,  Rob." 

"Necessarily,"    he   returned,   dryly. 

"And  Mr.  Jardine  has  not?" 

"Not  socially." 

"Socially!"  she  repeated.  "Rob, 
dear!  Socially!" 

"Oh,  indeed,  we  have  society  out 
here.  It's  rather  mixed,  of  course,  and 
unconventional,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  but  it  exists.  We  have  dances, 
and  literaries  and  box  parties,  and — " 

' '  Oyster  weddings, "  she  supple 
mented. 

' '  No.  In  that  case  Mrs.  McLelland 
carried  off  the  palm  of  originality. 
The  scarcity  of  oysters  precludes  the 
possibility  of  oyster  weddings  becoming 
vulgarly  common." 

"Well,  what  is  a  box  party?" 

"You   benighted  little  soul!     I  was 


56  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

at  a  box  party  a  few  nights  before  you 
came.  It  is  all  charmingly  simple. 
You  go  to  a  gathering,  and  you  buy  a 
number.  A  box,  containing  a  luncheon, 
goes  with  the  number.  The  girl  who 
prepared  the  luncheon  goes  with  the 
box.  One  eats  the  supper  with  the 
girl,  and  talks  with  the  girl,  and  dances 
with  the  girl,  and  sees  the  girl  home 
— all  for  a  paltry  fifty  cents.  Cheap, 
is  it  not?" 

"That,"  Miss  Lyle  replied,  pushing 
aside  her  cup  and  looking  over  at  him, 
"would  depend  upon  the  box  and  the 
girl." 

"It  does,  rather."  He  felt  relieved 
to  be  rid  of  the  subject  of  Jack  Jar- 
dine,  and  plunged  into  illustration. 
"The  night  I  speak  of,  for  instance, 
the  box  I  drew  contained  saleratus 
cookies,  huge  cucumber  pickles  artist 
ically  attired  in  green  tissue  paper, 
and  apples  that  had  seen  more  youth 
ful  days.  At  least  a  stretch  of  the 
imagination  makes  it  possible  to  sup 
pose  so.  The  girl  also  had  been 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  57 

younger  once.  She  wore  a  thin  white 
dress  and  red  woolen  stockings.  She 
wouldn't  dance  and  she  couldn't  talk. 
But  she  ate.  She  ate  all  the  saler- 
atus  cookies,  and  all  the  huge  cucum 
ber  pickles,  and  all  the  apples  that  had 
seen  more  youthful  days.  She  may 
have  eaten  the  green  tissue  paper,  too; 
I'm  not  sure.  I'm  only  sure  I  saw 
her  home." 

"You  poor — poor  boy!" 

"Oh,  that  wasn't  the  worst  of  it. 
She  circulated  the  story  that  I  had 
kissed  her  good-night." 

"Rob!     You  didn't?" 

"Didn't  I?"  laughing  at  her  tone  of 
horror.  "Would  you  doubt  the  dec 
laration  of  your  rural  sister?  Listen! 
Who  is  that?" 

A  decided  step  was  coming  around 
the  house.  A  moment  later  vigorous 
knuckles  resounded  on  the  back  door. 
Rob  rose  and  opened  it.  Jardine  stood 
outside. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Jack.     Come  in." 

"No,   I  won't  go  in.     I  stopped  to 


5§  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

tell  you  that  devil  of  a  Prior  has  all 
but  burned  down  the  office  and  ele 
vator  with  some  of  his  everlasting  ex 
periments.  The  fire  in  the  elevator 
was  extinguished  before  any  real  harm 
was  done.  The  office  isn't  much  more 
than  a  stack  of  black  sticks.  I  hope 
you're  fixed  about  insurance." 

"There's  not  much  on  the  elevator. 
It's  a  good  thing  that  didn't  go.  The 
office  don't  count.  Did  they  get  the 
books  out?" 

"The  books  were  saved." 

"Thanks  for  taking  the  trouble  to 
let  me  know." 

"I  was  passing  this  way,"  returned 
Jardine  ungraciously.  "I'm  going  out 
to  Auger's  about  some  steers.  Mark's 
trunk  was  in  the  office,  you  recollect. 
I  had  it  taken  over  to  the  hotel.  It's 
in  the  sample  room.  It  will  hardly  do 
to  leave  it  there.  I  thought  there 
might  be  something  in  it  of  value  to 
Miss  Lyle.  You'd  better  see  about  it 
in  the  morning." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  59 

"I'll  go  right  in  now  and  see  about 
having  it  brought  out  in  the  morning." 

"There's  no  need  for  such  haste. 
Anyhow  you  can't  leave  your  sister 
alone." 

"I  don't  mind  staying  alone,"  said 
Ivera  Lyle.  She  had  come  to  the 
door  and  was  standing  beside  her 
brother,  her  head  and  the  round  curve 
of  her  shoulder  silhouetted  against  the 
mellow  lamplight.  There  was  an  em 
barrassed  silence.  Then  Ivera  asked: 
"Will  you  come  in,  Mr.  Jardine?  I 
should  like  to  speak  with  you."  Look 
ing  quickly  from  her  brother  to  the 
man  standing  hat  in  hand  at  the  door 
step  she  was  reminded  that  Jardine 
was  not  a  young  man,  and  recalled 
what  Robert  had  said  about  him. 

"With  pleasure,"  answered  Jardine. 
He  followed  them  into  the  kitchen. 
Rob,  impotently  rebellious  concerning 
the  situation,  and  uneasy  as  to  the 
subject  of  his  sister's  proposed  inter 
view  with  Jardine,  found  himself  crowded 
out  of  her  confidence. 


60  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Take  my  horse  to  save  saddling, 
Rob,"  Jardine  said,  <(but  no  whip, 
mind!" 

"I  know  your  brute  too  well  for 
that."  He  pulled  on  his  hat,  went 
out  into  the  frosty  dusk  of  the  young 
winter  night,  mounted  Jardine's  horse, 
and  loped  away  toward  Bubble.  Stars 
were  straggling  out  in  a  half-hearted 
fashion.  A  wind  that  alternately  stung 
and  caressed  was  blowing  down  from 
the  Dakotas.  The  prairies  on  either 
side  of  the  road  stretched  away  dimly 
visible,  ghostly,  illimitable. 

Rob  rode  recklessly.  Ivera's  interest 
in  Jardine  perplexed  him.  He  wished 
he  had  not  been  so  eager  about  the 
trunk.  It  was  pretty  nearly  as  safe 
in  the  hotel  as  it  had  been  in  the 
office.  A  night  more  or  less  would 
not  have  mattered.  A  troublesome 
suggestion  insinuated  itself  that  there 
might  be  a  stronger  reason  than  any 
he  knew  of  for  his  sister's  Western 
visit.  He  remembered  that  only  once 
had  she  mentioned  the  name  of  her 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  61 

lost  lover.  That  was  the  morning  after 
her  arrival.  She  had  spoken  enig 
matically  then.  It  was  quite  impossible 
she  could  have  any  suspicion  as  to  the 
real  state  of  affairs.  But  if  any  lurk 
ing  idea  of  the  truth  possessed  her! 
Jardine,  to  be  sure,  was  no  blab,  but 
there  was  no  telling  what  a  girl  like 
Ivera  might  not  get  out  of  a  fellow. 

"Damn  it  all!"  he  groaned.  "I  wish 
I'd  never  started.  I  wish  I  was  back. 
Get  up,  there,  will  you?" 

He  had  no  whip,  but  he  brought 
his  boot  heel  down  viciously  on  the 
animal's  flank.  The  horse  seemed  to 
spring  in  air.  Then  it  dashed  down 
the  cut  in  the  side  of  the  bluff  up 
which  the  buggy  had  careened  with 
Jardine  and  his  sister  the  night  of  her 
arrival.  A  swerve  to  the  right,  as  the 
whiteness  of  the  quarried  stone  gleamed 
out  pallidly  in  the  half  light — a  scram 
ble — a  struggle  on  the  very  edge, 
then  horse  and  rider  crashed  over 
into  the  draw  below- 


CHAPTER  V. 

"She  takes  upon  her  bravely  at  first  dash!" 

— Henry  VI. 

TVER  A  LYLE  stood  at  the  supper 
1  table  and  washed  up  the  dishes  and 
Jack  Jardine  sat  and  watched  her  with 
the  amused  consciousness  that  under 
other  circumstances  he  might  find  the 
situation  pleasant,  and  possibly  ro 
mantic. 

''You  have  had  supper?"  she  had 
questioned. 

"I  have  had  supper.  It  consisted 
of  fried  pork,  with  a  good  deal  of  flour 
boiled  in  the  fat  by  way  of  gravy. 
This  was  supplemented  by  a  leathery 
delicacy  my  man  calls  corn  bread.  It 
is  our  invariable  repast." 

"Won't  he  cook  anything  else?" 

"He  can't." 

There  was  a  silence.    Then  she  said: 
"This  is  a  desolate  country." 
62 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  63 

"Are  you  finding  that  out  already?" 
"Already?  I've  been  here  over  two 
weeks.  I've  driven  around  with  Rob. 
I've  been  in  the  farmhouses  and  talked 
with  the  women.  Such  isolation!  Such 
monotony!  Such  drudgery!  And  the 
hopelessness  of  ever  escaping  from 
these  conditions  accentuates  the  hor 
ror  of  them.  One  exceptionally  intel 
ligent  woman  I  met  asked  me  if  I  had 
read  Kipling's  story  of  the  ride  of 
Morrowbie  Jukes,  and  the  experience  of 
those  endeavoring  to  escape  from  the 
plague  pit.  'We  are  like  that  here,' 
she  said.  'When  those  accursed  crea 
tures  tried  to  scale  the  walls  that 
bounded  their  living  grave,  the  sand 
sifted  down  on  them,  destroying  their 
foothold.  We  try  to  escape,  and  there 
is  the  drouth  one  year  out  of  three, 
sometimes  oftener.  In  the  odd  years 
of  prosperity  the  price  of  grain  goes 
down,  until  the  most  a  man  makes 
after  all  goes  but  a  short  way  toward 
paying  the  indebtedness  incurred  dur- 


64  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

ing  the  years  his  land  yielded  him 
nothing."" 

"There's  some  truth  in  that,"  Jar- 
dine  said,  thoughtfully.  "If  a  man 
has  sufficient  capital  to  permit  him  to 
hedge  he's  apt  to  succeed.  For  in 
stance,  if  he  can  buy  corn  cheap  a 
good  year,  and  hold  it  until  a  season 
of  drouth,  when  stock  are  starving,  he 
can  buy  feed,  and  ship  cattle,  and  reap 
big  returns." 

"Oh,  the  capitalist — yes.  But  for 
the  farmer  who  depends  upon  the  be 
nignity  of  the  skies  from  one  season 
to  another — what  lies  before  him?" 

"That  depends  largely  upon  his 
temperament,  and  upon  the  ability  of 
his  family  to  adapt  itself  to  existing 
conditions. " 

"You  are  evasive.  Putting  his  pos 
sibly  sanguine  temperament  and  the 
preference  of  his  family  for  bread  with 
out  butter  out  of  the  question — what 
then?" 

"Then  it  is  a  case  of  slow  star 
vation." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  65 

"Of  mental  malady  also?" 
"It's  naturally  conducive  to  that." 
"I  fancy  that  Nebraskans  twenty 
years  from  now  will  not  feel  the  de 
pression  their  parents  experience  to 
day.  They  will  have  been  familiar 
with  life  here  and  all  its  hard  condi 
tions.  They  will  accept  it  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  make  the  best  of  it. 
But  the  people  one  finds  on  these 
prairies  to-day,  the  middle-aged  and 
the  prematurely  old,  have  come  from 
less  desolate  states.  Their  one  dream 
and  longing  is  to  go  back  East  some 
time.  But  this  delight  presupposes 
prosperity.  It  grows  fainter  as  the 
years  pass.  There  is  the  everlasting 
drouth  to  be  confronted." 

"Oh,  sometimes  we  have  rain — the 
night  you  came  out  here,  for  instance." 
She  refused  to  reply  to  his  rallying 
tone. 

"For  the  men  it  does  not  seem  to 
be  so  bad, "  she  went  on.  "They  have 
their  larger  interests,  their  trips  with 
stock,  their  lodge  meetings,  and  local 

5 


66  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

elections.     But  the  women!     I  wonder 
they  don't  go  mad!" 

"Some  of  them  do — the  less  stolid." 

' '  I  should, "  she  said,  and  shuddered. 

He  looked  at  her  intently.  ' '  I  don't 
think  so.  You  have  preferences,  tastes, 
resources  within  yourself  of  which  peas 
ant  women  have  no  consciousness  or 
inkling. " 

' '  How  can  they  have  such  conscious 
ness  ?  To  appreciate  beauty  one  must 
first  have  leisure.  That  is  the  best 
thing  about  wealth — it  gives  one  leisure. 
And  having  leisure  one  can  enjoy  all 
that  is  most  beautiful  in  book  or  on 
canvas,  on  land  or  sea." 

"You  would  live  your  own  life  any 
where,"  he  insisted. 

She  shook  her  head.  "I'd  try  to, 
but  I  think  something  would  snap  in 
me.  I  walked  down  the  other  morning 
to  the  house  where  the  man  who  works 
for  Rob  lives  with  his  family.  Such 
a  morning !  The  prairies  were  white  with 
frost,  and  every  tall  cottonwood  was 
a  shaft  of  silver!  A  glorious  sun  was 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  67 

coming  up,  and  there  was  a  rushing 
wind  that  one  bent  to  buffet — a  wind 
that  had  the  cold  resistance  of  ocean 
waves.  I  went  from  it  all  into  the 
little,  two-roomed  hut.  Some  men  and 
children  were  eating  at  the  table,  and 
the  woman  stood  by  the  stove  frying 
pork  and  cakes.  I  could  only  see  her 
dimly  through  the  greasy  fog  with 
which  the  place  was  filled.  I  remarked 
upon  the  beauty  of  the  morning.  '  Is 
it  a  pretty  day?'  she  asked  indifferently. 
When  the  men  had  left  the  room  she 
told  me  they  had  gone  out  to  kill  a 
hog.  'It  weighs  four  hundred,'  she 
said,  with  some  pride,  'an'  I'm  goin' 
to  put  it  down. '  '  Without  help  ?'  '  Land 
yes,  I  kin  do  it  all  right  if  only  the 
baby  don't  fret. '  I  looked  at  the  puny 
child  in  the  cradle.  '  He  looks  delicate, ' 
I  said.  'Don't  you  ever  take  him  out?' 
4  No, '  she  replied,  '  I  ain't  got  time  for 
that.  I  ain't  been  anywheres  myself 
since  the  last  Fourth.  All  the  children 
looks  that  way  until  they  get  old  enough 
to  roll  outdoors  themselves.  Then 


68  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

they  pick  up. '  What  beauty  could  that 
woman  see  or  hear,  or  even  think  of, 
with  such  a  task  before  her?  And 
when  she  might  creep  to  bed,  tingling 
with  tired,  there  was  still  the  fretful 
baby  to  tend." 

"Her  case  is  a  common  one,"  Jar- 
dine  admitted.  ' '  One  day  or  one 
week  or  even  one  month  might  not  be 
so  unendurable,  but  it  is  the  repetition 
that  is  so  terrible.  Three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  days  in  the  year,  and 
God  only  knows  how  many  years  ahead 
of  them.  It's  rough  lines." 

' '  I  wish  I  could  induce  Rob  to  throw 
up  the  life  out  here  and  go  back  with 
me.  He  is  altering — inevitably,  I  sup 
pose.  I  was  much  startled  at  first  by 
the  change  in  him.  He  does  not  real 
ize  it  himself.  He  had  fine  ideals  and 
ambitions — once. " 

"Fine  ideals  are  torn  in  tatters  by 
the  wind  of  the  plains,"  returned  Jar- 
dine,  "and  ambitions  that  are  not 
merely  material  rust."  She  took  up 
the  lamp  and  led  the  way  into  the 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  69 

front  room.  Jardine,  following  her, 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  pleased  sur 
prise.  Was  this  the  dismal  apartment 
in  which  he  had  found  Lyle  asleep? 
This  gay  little  room  with  the  cheery 
fire,  some  comfortable  new  chairs,  a 
lot  of  pencil  and  pastel  sketches  pinned 
on  the  wall,  magazines  tossed  around, 
and  a  wicker  sewing  stand  full  of  bright 
wools  and  stuffs? 

"You  are  a  magician,"  he  declared. 
' '  How  long  is  Rob  going  to  keep  you 
to  make  the  rest  of  us  envious?" 

She  put  the  lamp  down  and  turned 
and  faced  him.  "Only  until  I  have 
discovered  what  I  came  to  learn — the 
manner  and  mystery  of  Mark  Dudley's 
death." 

"Miss  Lyle!" 

She  was  looking  at  him  quietly — 
expectantly. 

"Why  do  you  imagine  there  is  any 
mystery  connected  with  it?" 

' '  You  may  laugh  at  me  if  I  tell  you." 

Laugh!  There  was  slight  chance  of 
his  jesting  on  that  subject! 


7°  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"I  will  not,"  he  answered.  He 
waited  until  she  sat  down,  then  took 
the  chair  opposite  her.  ''Miss  Lyle, 
what  is  it  you  believe?" 

"I  believe  that  Mark  Dudley  did 
not  die  a  natural  death." 

He  caught  his  breath  sharply.  His 
lips  tightened  into  a  pale  line.  There 
was  an  instant's  pause.  Then  he  com 
manded:  "Go  on!" 

"I  was  only  seventeen  when  Mark 
and  I  became  engaged.  Soon  after 
he  decided  to  go  West.  He  refused 
to  allow  me  to  accompany  him  until 
he  could  offer  me  a  comfortable  home. 
'But,'  I  urged,  'if  you  should  become 
ill — be  near  death?'  'Neither  danger 
nor  death  can  keep  me  from  calling 
to  you, '  he  said.  '  If  I  am  in  peril 
my  spirit  shall  summon  yours,  and 
yours  shall  hear!'  It  was  all  very  real 
to  me.  I  promised  to  listen — and 
obey." 

Jardine's  eyes — deep  eyes  with  a  tired 
look — never  left  her  face. 

"That  was  five    years  ago.     I   had 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  71 

almost  forgotten  our  compact.  On  the 
night  of  the  first  of  September — I 
dreamed,  you  will  say.  This  I  saw: 
a  room  in  which  there  was  a  stove,  a 
counter,  some  chairs,  a  lounge.  On 
this  lounge  lay  a  dead  man.  The  man 
was  Mark  Dudley." 

Jardine  sprang  to  his  feet.  ' '  For 
God's  sake!"  he  exclaimed,  and  broke 
off. 

' '  I  looked  at  my  watch — I  had 
awakened  with  the  horror  of  the  im 
pression.  It  was  half  past  eleven.  I 
again  tried  to  sleep.  After  a  while  the 
same  queer  sense  of  semi-consciousness 
possessed  me.  I  saw  once  more  the 
dimly-lit  room.  The  rigid  shape  was 
still  on  the  lounge.  A  sparely-built 
man  in  the  rear,  whose  face  I  could 
not  see,  was  stooping  over  some  task 
— apparently  a  task  of  importance. 
The  door  opened.  You  came  in." 

Jardine  fell  a  step  backward — flung 
out  his  hand. 

' '  I  told  you  when  we  first  met  that 
I  recognized  you, "  she  proceeded,  look- 


72  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

ing  at  him.  "Now  you  know  how. 
Why  you  were  in  that  place  at  that 
hour  I  do  not  know,  but  just  then  it 
seemed  to  me  that  Mark  cried  out, — 
although  neither  you  nor  the  other 
man  appeared  to  hear,  'Ivera!  Help 
me!'  Shaking  I  leaped  out  of  bed. 
It  was  half-past  three.  Several  days 
later  your  telegram  that  Mark  had  died 
at  half-past  eleven  o'clock  on  the  night 
of  the  first  of  September  reached  me. 
Mr.  Jardine,  will  you  tell  me  what 
occurred  at  half-past  three  o'clock  the 
following  morning?" 

White  as  he  would  be  coffined,  Jar- 
dine  regarded  her. 

"Have  I  startled  you?"  she  asked. 

' '  I  do  not  wonder" — his  voice  sounded 
changed — "that  you  were  alarmed  by 
such  a — a  dream.  If  there  were  any 
proofs  that  your  suspicions  should  be 
considered,  I  would  be  glad  to  assist 
you." 

' '  Yes  ?"  In  her  voice  was  that  faintly 
interrogative  note  that  always  dis 
turbed  him. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  73 

"To  confute  your  conviction,"  he 
continued  coldly,  "would  be  an  easier 
task  than  to  confirm  it." 

' '  Mark  died  the  night  of  the  first  of 
September.  He  was  buried  on  the  sec 
ond.  Was  such  haste  imperative?" 

"Eldridge  had  declared  the  disease 
contagious.  Burials  follow  death  more 
quickly  here  than  in  the  East." 

A  faint  smile  flickered  over  her  face. 
She  looked  suddenly  white  and  weary. 
"You  refuse  to  help  me  then?" 

"Miss  Lyle,"  he  cried  passionately, 
"why  do  you  ask  me  such  questions? 
Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that?" 

' '  Because  it  was  your  face  I  saw  in 
my  vision  that  night." 

' '  And  you  harbor  suspicions  toward 
me  because  I  happen  to  resemble  the 
creature  of  a  dream?" 

"I  did  not  say  I  suspected  you." 

"But  you  do." 

' '  I  must  learn  the  truth, "  she  evaded, 
piteously. 

"God  help  you  when  you  do!"  Jack 
Jardine  said  to  himself. 


74  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Sit  down!"  the  girl  suddenly  urged 
with  gracious  cordiality.  ' '  What  a  host 
ess  you  will  think  me!" 

But  Jardine  had  flung  back  his  head 
and  was  listening. 

' '  Someone  is  calling  from  the  road, " 
he  said.  ' '  I  shall  see  who  it  is. " 

He  hurried  out  the  front  way.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  was  back.  "It  is 
Doctor  Eldridge  and  Rob.  It  isn't 
anything  serious,  I  think,  but  Rob  is 
hurt." 

"Hurt?" 

"They  say  my  horse  shied  at  the 
quarry,  and  went  over  with  Rob  into 
the  draw.  Eldridge  was  coming  up  the 
ascent  at  the  time,  and  saw  the  acci 
dent.  He  secured  help,  and  got  Rob 
into  his  buggy.  We  will  bring  him  in 
now. " 

When  they  carried  Rob  in,  he  looked 
anxiously  at  his  sister.  ' '  I'm  one  big 
ache,  Ive,  but  it  won't  amount  to  much. 
Don't  get  scared." 

She  shook  her  head  and  smiled  back 
at  him. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  75 

Jardine  murmured  a  word  of  intro 
duction  as  Ivera  glanced  at  Doctor  El- 
dridge.  She  saw  a  middle-aged  man 
with  a  peculiarly  pale  and  flabby  face, 
straight  black  hair  and  round  black 
eyes,  in  which  the  iris  was  almost  com 
pletely  absorbed  by  the  pupil. 

"He  is  badly  bruised  and  shaken 
up,"  Eldridge  decided  after  an  exam 
ination,  ' '  but  there  are  no  bones  broken. 
He'll  be  around  all  right  in  a  week  or 
so.  He  was  more  frightened  than  hurt, 
as  we  say  of  the  children.  Still,  it  was 
a  close  shave.  Good  thing  the  horse 
didn't  fall  on  him.  I'll  call  to-mor 
row.  " 

He  bowed  to  Ivera  and  went  out. 
Jardine  followed  him. 

' '  See  here,  Doc, "  he  said,  ( '  that  girl 
is  alone  there.  The  woman  who  has 
been  helping  her  comes  only  for  a  few 
hours  in  the  daytime,  I  understand. 
You  know  the  people  out  here  better 
than  I  do.  Can't  you  find  someone 
to-night  to  come  to  stay  with  Miss  Lyle  ? 
Where  are  you  off  to,  anyhow?" 


76  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"I'm  going  to  old  man  Dayson's. 
He's  in  the  last  ditch  with  pneumonia. 
Yes,  I  think  I  know  a  girl  who'll  come 
down.  I'll  send  someone,  sure." 

"Right  away,  Doc,  mind!" 

"Right  away.     I  pass  the  place." 

He  drove  off.  Jardine  went  back  to 
the  house.  He  told  Ivera  the  doctor 
would  send  a  woman  to  stay  with  her. 
Then  he  talked  a  while  with  Rob. 
He  was  not  long  gone  when  there  was 
a  knock  at  the  kitchen  door.  Ivera 
opened  it.  A  girl  stood  just  outside. 
She  had  a  small  shawl  over  her  head. 
This  shawl  she  grasped  under  her  chin 
with  a  square,  brown  hand. 

"The  Doc  he  says  you  want  help," 
she  said,  speaking  with  the  hesitancy  of 
one  using  an  unaccustomed  tongue. 

"Yes.     Come  in." 

In  the  light  Ivera  noticed  that  the 
girl  was  young  and-  comely  in  a  robust, 
peasant  style.  Her  form  was  full  and 
round.  Her  face  had  the  soft  curves, 
and  pouting  lips  of  childhood.  The 
eyes  were  too  prominent — too  heavy- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  77 

lidded.  The  lips  were  sensuous.  But 
the  dark  hair  was  abundant  and  the 
cheeks  were  deeply  and  peachily  pink. 

"What  is  your  name?"  Miss  Lyle 
asked. 

"Mollie  Chourka." 

Involuntarily  Miss  Lyle  moved  back. 
What  was  that  Mrs.  McLelland  had 
said? — "the  girl  Mark  Dudley  thrun 
over. " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"A  fine  volley  of  words,  gentlemen,  and  quickly  shot  off!" 
—  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

JARDINE  walked  back  to  town. 
Late  though  it  was,  there  were 
many  people  moving.  They  stood  in 
groups  around  the  damaged  elevator 
and  the  ruins  of  the  office.  Eldridge 
had  returned,  and  had  told  of  the  ac 
cident  to  Robert  Lyle.  The  rumor 
grew,  until  it  was  asserted  he  had  been 
killed  outright.  In  the  glare  of  the 
light  from  the  drugstore  Jardine  saw 
the  broad,  red  face  of  Peter  Jennings. 

" Where's  Prior?" 

"Haven't  seen  him.  Where  have 
you  been?" 

'  *  Out  at  Lyle's, "  Jack  replied  shortly. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Peter,  with  a  sig 
nificant  smirk,  "to  see  Mr.  Lyle,  of 
course. " 

78 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  79 

' '  It  is, "  Jack  assured  him  with  much 
deliberation,  "none  of  your  damned 
business  who  I  went  to  see."  And  he 
walked  on.  He  went  into  the  hotel, 
strode  up  the  rickety  stairway  and 
kicked  open  the  door  of  a  certain  room. 
On  the  side  of  the  bed  Prior  sat  smok 
ing.  A  trunk  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor.  The  leather  strap  that  en 
circled  it  was  undone,  but  the  lock 
was  still  secure. 

"You've  been  trying  to  open  that 
trunk,"  said  Jardine. 

' '  For  once, "  returned  Prior  placidly, 
"you've  guessed  right,  my  unceremo 
nious  friend.  You  were  so  almighty 
anxious  to  save  it  I  thought  it  might 
contain  something  worth  seeing,  so  I 
had  it  brought  up  to  my  room.  Not 
one  of  my  keys  will  fit  it  though." 

"You  have  no  right  to  open  it." 

"Have  you?" 

"No." 

"You  were  pretty  careful  that  trunk 
should  not  go  up  in  smoke.  Dudley 
used  to  tell  us  he  had  no  relatives. 


80  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Who  has  the  right  to  open  it,  then?" 

A  dull  red  flushed  Jardine's  hand 
some  face. 

"Lyle  has  the  best  right,  I  fancy. 
His  sister  was  affianced  to  Dudley. 
Doubtless  her  letters,  keepsakes  and 
things  of  that  sort  are  in  the  trunk. 
We  know  he  had  her  picture.  She 
may  wish  to  secure  these  without  hav 
ing  them  pass  through  your  hands — 
or  mine." 

' '  Oh,  if  that  is  all, "  Prior  responded 
indifferently,  "I've  no  interest  in  it." 

"You're  going  to  rebuild  the  office 
I  suppose,"  Jardine  said,  as  he  knelt 
down  and  buckled  the  trunk  strap. 

"Of  course.  I  haven't  seen  Rob 
yet." 

"You  won't  in  a  hurry  unless  you 
go  to  see  him.  He  got  a  tumble  to 
night  that  will  lay  him  up  for  a  few 
days.  By  the  way,  have  you  any  idea 
why  his  sister  came  out  from  civiliza 
tion?" 

"The  pretty  little  girl  with  the  de- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  8 1 

licious  old    Irish  name?     How  do  the 
lines  go? 

"  How  oft  when  the  summer  sun  rested  on 

Clara, 

And  lit  the  dark  heath  on  the  hills  of  Ivera, 
Have  I  sought  thee — '  " 

' '  Stop  that, "  Jardine  ordered  gruffly. 
"Have  you  any  idea  why  she  came 
to  Nebraska — to  this  beggarly  little 
town  ?" 

"It  can't  concern  me  to  know." 

Jardine,  one  foot  planted  on  the 
trunk,  looked  at  him  keenly.  ' '  I 
should  say  it  concerned  you  a  good 
deal." 

"How?" 

"She  has  come  here  to  discover  the 
circumstances  and  particulars  of  Mark's 
illness  and  death." 

Prior  looked  startled.  Then  he 
grinned,  showing  all  his  little  sharp, 
white  teeth. 

"That's  a  good  deal  better  than 
attempting  to  discover  the  particulars 

6 


82  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

of  his  health  and  life.  She  would  not 
relish  those." 

Jardine  impatiently  pushed  his  old 
hat  back  on  his  head.  ' '  But  she  says 
she  does  not  believe  Mark  Dudley  died 
a  natural  death." 

'  'Good  Lord, "  gasped  Prior.  Stunned 
into  sudden  seriousness,  he  sat  bolt 
upright  and  stared  at  Jardine. 

"I  knew  it  was  a  bad  business," 
Jardine  asserted  gloomily.  There  was 
silence  in  the  room.  They  could  hear 
the  grunting  of  a  freight  train  down 
on  the  track. 

"What  put  that  idea  in  her  head?" 
Prior  asked. 

Jardine  checked  himself  as  he  was 
about  to  reply.  A  minute  later  he 
said:  "That  isn't  the  question.  The 
idea  is  there.  And  she  doesn't  strike 
me  as  the  kind  of  a  girl  to  be  easily 
discouraged. " 

Prior,,  his  sallow  little  face  singularly 
disturbed,  sat  and  drummed  with  his 
fingers  on  the  washstand.  Jardine,  in 
his  former  position,  stared  moodily  at 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  83 

the  lamp,  in  which  the  flame  was  lick 
ing  the  chimney  black  in  an  attempt 
to  efface  its  feeble  existence. 

"I've  a  good  mind,"  burst  out  Prior, 
"to  divvy  up  with  Rob  as  soon  as 
that  insurance  is  paid,  and  go  South 
for  my  health." 

Jardine  ground  an  oath  between  his 
teeth.  ' '  You  mean  to  take  that  blood 
money,  then?" 

' '  Why  not  ?  There  was  risk  enough 
about  getting  it." 

"I  bet  Lyle  won't  touch  it.  He's 
a  foolish  youngster,  but  he's  not  a  thor 
ough  scoundrel." 

"All  the  better  for  me  if  he  won't. 
The  policy  is  made  out  payable  to  me. 
But  I  fancy  he'll  take  his  share.  You 
look  as  if  you'd  like  to  lick  me,  Jar- 
dine." 

Jardine  glanced  down  at  his  hands, 
long,  brown,  slender  hands,  which  labor 
had  not  robbed  of  their  shapeliness. 
He  struck  the  tips  together  with  a  light, 
dusting  gesture. 

' '  Oh, "  commented  Prior,  with  a  sneer- 


84  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

ing  laugh,  "you  wouldn't  soil  your 
hands,  eh?  You'd  consider  kicking  about 
right,  eh?" 

"Perhaps,"  Jardine  returned  gently, 
"but  you  see  I  can't  put  in  my  time 
kicking  curs. "  With  which  amiable  re 
mark  he  walked  out  of  the  room,  out 
of  the  house,  and  toward  the  livery 
barn,  to  which  a  farmer  had  taken  his 
horse.  When  he  reached  home  the 
bleak  dawn  was  not  far  off.  He  dropped 
from  the  animal  he  had  hired,  stabled 
it,  and  turned  in  the  direction  of  his 
shack. 

He  felt  tired,  harassed,  perplexed. 
To  speak — or  to  keep  still?  To  make 
bad  worse — or  let  bad  enough  alone? 
To  tell  Ivera  Lyle  the  truth  and  have 
her  hate  the  memory  of  her  lover,  scorn 
her  brother,  perhaps  despise  him  ?  No. 
There  was  only  one  thing  to  do — be 
silent.  A  loud  snore  greeted  him  as 
he  opened  his  door.  The  snore  pro 
ceeded  from  an  individual  prone  on  a 
carpet-covered  lounge  beside  a  little 
sheet-iron  stove.  The  form  was  cov- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  85 

ered  with  a  horse  blanket.  At  one  end 
of  the  blanket  a  rosy  image  beamed 
benignly.  From  under  the  other  end 
protruded  a  pair  of  substantial  feet, 
wearing  the  most  brilliant  hose  imagin 
able.  The  air  was  rank  with  the  smell 
of  stale  kerosene. 

Jennings  lifted  his  head.  '  <  That  you, 
dear  boy?  Thought  I'd  not  go  on  to 
my  own  place  to-night  but  would  bunk 
with  you.  I've  been  dreaming  of  that 
pretty  sister  of  Lyle's.  I've  a  good 
mind  to  cut  you  out.  I  believe  I'll 
go  call  on  her,  and  ask  to  take  her  to 
the  Christmas  dance,  and — oh,  by  Jove, 
now. " 

He  dodged,  as  the  heavy  boot  Jar- 
dine  had  taken  off  whizzed  by  his  head. 
Of  the  many  people  who  knew  Jack 
Jardine,  two  that  night  entertained  the 
conviction  that  he  was  not  the  sweet 
est  tempered  fellow  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"But  you'll  be  secret?" 

— Hamlet. 

>  it's  Mrs.  McLelland!"  cried 
Ivera. 

She  had  hastened  to  open  the  front 
door  in  answer  to  a  loud  and  imperious 
summons.  Mrs.  McLelland,  massively 
handsome,  wonderfully  preserved,  im 
pressively  dignified,  and  subtly  sym 
pathetic,  confronted  her;  Mrs.  McLel 
land  in  black  and  shiny  alpaca,  in  stiffly 
starched  net  fichu,  in  an  ancient  Paisley 
shawl,  in  the  greenest  and  thickest  of 
kid  gloves,  in  all  the  dazzling  brilliance 
of  gold-rimmed  spectacles  and  brand 
new  teeth! 

' '  Yes,  I  come  out  reel  early,  though 
we  ain't  near  settled  in  the  new  house 
yet.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  come.  I 
didn't  know  but  you'd  be  sleepin'. 

86 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  87 

City  folks  is  such  to  keep  a-layin'  after 
sun-up.  Where've  you  got  him?" 

"Come  in.     Got  whom?" 

"Rob  Lyle,  of  course." 

"He's  in  the  front  bedroom." 

Ivera  led  the  way  into  the  little 
parlor.  Mrs.  McLelland  followed  her. 
She  deposited  her  ponderous  propor 
tions  on  a  pine  rocker  that  creaked 
protestingly,  and  folded  her  fat  green 
hands  in  her  lap.  ' '  Well, "  she  com 
mented,  her  shrewd  old  eyes  scanning 
the  girl  closely,  "you're  takin'  it  aw 
ful  easy." 

Ivera  smiled  sunnily. 

"It  might  have  been  worse,"  she 
said. 

Mrs.  McLelland  smiled,  too,  but  with 
a  certain  subdued  resignation,  a  con 
ventional  solemnity. 

"That's  so;  It  might  have  been 
lots  worse  ef  Pa  didn't  buy  out  the 
undertakin'  business  when  he  did." 

Miss  Lyle  looked  rather  astonished. 
"I  don't  quite  understand,"  she  said; 
"what  has  that  to  do  with  it?" 


88  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Mrs.  McLelland  shook  her  head 
compassionately.  "You  don't?  Why, 
land,  that  other  man,  Mahasby,  his 
name  was — Pa's  progenitor,  you  know, 
in  Bubble — was  no  more  of  a  hand 
fur  corpses  than  my  old  cat  Susanna. 
He  didn't  have  no  hearse  ever — only 
a  spring  wagon.  An'  fur  all  one  could 
tell  he  might  be  a-cartin'  a  pagan  or 
a  quarter  of  beef,  instead  of  a  respect 
able  corpse  that  paid  his  fare.  Now 
Pa,  he's  got  a  hearse,  with  glass  sides, 
an'  embalmin'  fluid,  and  linin's,  of  every 
shade  from  white  to  cream,  to  suit 
blondes  or  brunettes.  Which  shade 
do  you  ameliorate?  But  most  like  you 
an'  Pa  has  talked  all  that  over  this 
mornin'. " 

"Why,  I  haven't  seen  Mr.  McLel 
land  since  you  moved  to  town." 

"What?  Wasn't  he  out  here  'bout 
three  o'clock?" 

"No,  indeed." 

"Where  was  he  then?"  Mrs.  McLel 
land  demanded,  sitting  bolt  upright. 

"I'm  sure,"  protested  Ivera  in  meek- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  89 

ness     and     bewilderment,      "I     don't 
know. " 

"He  got  a  call  fur  west  of  town 
between  two  an'  three  o'clock.  I  heered 
the  man  tell  him  'twas  west.  There 
weren't  anyone  sick  out  here  I  knowed 
on  but  old  man  Dayson." 

"Mr.   Dayson  is  dead." 

"Oh,  mebbe  'twas  him,  then.  I 
expect  they  sent  fur  Pa  to  constitoot 
proper  appearances  fur  him.  I  ain't 
seen  Pa  since.  But  what  about  Rob? 
You  ain't  never  sent  to  the  undertaker 
over  in  Kansas  to  tend  upon  him?" 

"The  undertaker!"  gasped  Ivera. 

"Yes.  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me 
you  shet  Pa  out'n  the  job?" 

"What  job?"  Miss  Lyle  faltered 
weakly. 

Mrs.  McLelland  looked  her  wrath 
and  indignation.  "Buryin"  Rob  Lyle, 
of  course!  An'  Pa  a  beautiful  hand 
fur — what's  that?" 

That  was  a  gay  shout  of  laughter 
from  the  bedroom. 


90  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Me—  Mrs.  Me!  I'm 
worth  ten  dead  men  yet!" 

In  majestic  disappointment  the  caller 
arose  and  made  her  ponderous  way 
to  the  door  of  the  bedroom.  "Then 
you  ain't  dead,  Rob  Lyle?" 

"Not  yet,"  returned  Rob  apologet 
ically. 

"Well,  I  never!  They  had  it  in 
Bubble  last  night  that  you  got  throwed 
from  that  Englishman's  horse,  an'  was 
killed.  So  when  the  man  rousted  Pa 
out  o'  bed,  I  made  sure  'twas  to  wait 
on  you.  So  you  couldn't  set  on  a  horse 
without  bein'  propelled  off?  Was  you 
drunk  again,  Rob  Lyle?" 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  Ivera,  in  a  shocked 
voice. 

"Of  course  not!"  cried  Rob  indig 
nantly.  He  shook  his  head  with  a 
vigor,  but  when  his  sister  had  turned 
her  back  he  winked  at  Mrs.  McLelland. 

"Well,"  averred  their  visitor,  "I 
must  be  gittin'  back.  Ef  Pa  has  old 
man  Dayson  on  his  hands  he'll  want 
a  good  dinner.  Fixin'  dead  folks  allus 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  91 

does  give  Pa  such  an  appetite.  You 
see  he  don't  piece." 

"Piece?"  Miss  Lyle  repeated  inter 
rogatively. 

"Yes.  Now,  my  niece  she  pieces 
on  cold  corn  bread  an'  apples.  I  piece 
on  raw  onions  an'  crackers  mostly,  but 
Pa  he  don't  piece  at  all,  so  he  gets 
real  sharpened  in  his  stomach  when  it 
comes  mealtimes.  Well,  good-bye." 

Outside  the  house  she  encountered 
a  buxom  damsel  whose  cheeks  were 
pink  and  whose  expression  was  sullen. 

"So  you're  here,  Moll  Chourka! 
What  doin'?  Workin'?  When'd  you 
come?" 

"Last  night." 

"I  thought  Mis'  Douthett  was  help- 
in'  here  days." 

"She  was,  but  she  ain't,"  the  Bo 
hemian  replied.  ' '  Lady  want  help  all 
the  time." 

Mrs.  McLelland  got  herself  into  her 
buggy  with  some  difficulty,  and  drove 
back  to  Bubble.  Jardine  was  passing 
when  she  drew  up  before  her  new  frame 


92  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

cottage.  He  came  forward,  and  held 
the  reins  while  she  alighted,  giving  her 
a  steady  hand  by  way  of  assistance 
at  the  same  time.  She  grunted  in  ac 
knowledgment,  and  remarked  that  she 
had  been  out  to  Lyle's. 

"How  is  Rob  getting  on?" 
1 '  Rob !"  she  gave  a  contemptuous  sniff. 
"Naught  was  never  in  danger,  an'  it 
ain't  now.  But  I  expect  he'll  run  the 
legs  off'n  that  young  sister  of  his'n  an' 
Moll  Chourka  a-waiting  on  him.  He's 
the  kind  that's  willin'  to  let  folks  to  do 
fur  him." 

"Mollie  Chourka?  That  Bohemian 
girl?  Is  she  there?" 

"She  come  there  to  work  last  night." 
"The   devil   she   did!     I    beg  your 
pardon,   Mrs.   McLelland.     I  must  be 
off." 

He  doffed  his  hat  and  strode  down 
the  main  street  until  he  came  to  a  little 
ten  by  twelve  shanty.  He  banged  into 
the  one  bare  and  dirty  room.  There 
were  a  couple  of  chairs  and  some  scat 
tered  books  in  the  room.  On  an  up- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  93 

turned  cracker  box  was  a  dirty  tin 
basin,  a  bar  of  soap,  and  a  dingy  towel. 
Under  the  stove  was  an  inch  of  ashes, 
and  the  reddish-brown  fluff  of  corn 
cobs  covered  the  floor.  Doctor  El- 
dridge,  dozing  in  a  chair,  started  up 
as  his  visitor  entered. 

' '  Oh,  it's  only  you,  Jack.     Sit  down. " 

"What  in  thunder  did  you  mean," 
Jardine  demanded  furiously,  "by  get 
ting  that  Chourka  girl  to  go  to  Lyle's? 
You  knew  better." 

"Why  shouldn't  she  go  there?" 

' '  She  ?  Don't  you  know  Miss  Lyle 
was  to  have  married  Mark  Dudley." 

"I  wasn't  aware  of  that." 

"You  were  told,  but  you've  forgot 
ten,"  Jardine  insisted.  "You've  for 
gotten  more  than  that,  thanks  to  that 
demon  drug  you  use."  He  was  white 
with  anger. 

"Go  easy,  Jack!" 

But  Jardine,  uttering  very  fervently 
the  request  that  the  physician  betake 
himself  to  a  warmer  climate  than  that 
of  Southern  Nebraska,  went  off,  slam- 


94  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

ming  the  door  after  him.  He  made 
resentful  haste  with  the  grind  of  affairs 
demanding  his  attention,  but  several 
matters  cropped  up  to  annoy  and  de 
lay  him.  The  crisp,  gray  winter  even 
ing  was  closing  in  before  he  found 
himself  riding  rapidly  west  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  Lyle  farm.  It  was  still 
light  enough  to  see  the  road  dipping 
and  winding  before  him,  the  blackish 
clumps  of  sumac  by  the  roadside,  the 
wine-red  masses  of  tangleweed  that 
clung  to  his  horse's  legs. 

He  found  Rob  sitting  up  in  bed, 
eating  a  far  daintier  supper  than  the 
mild  character  of  his  illness  made  really 
necessary.  Ivera  was  waiting  on  him. 
She  gave  Jardine  a  distant  little  bow 
and  disappeared.  She  went  into  her 
own  small  room,  directly  back  of  Rob's, 
and  sat  down  by  the  window.  She  felt 
very  tired.  The  unaccustomed  work 
fatigued  her.  She  would  wait  until 
Mr.  Jardine  was  gone.  So  she  sat  in 
a  tired  trance,  waiting  to  hear  the  clos 
ing  of  the  front  door.  She  did  not 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  95 

hear  it.  She  never  knew  if  she  had 
slept.  But  she  presently  became  aware 
that  someone  was  speaking  in  a  low 
and  cautious  voice  just  outside  her 
window. 

"Remember  what  I've  told  you," 
instructed  Jack  Jardine.  "Don't  let 
her  know  anything  about  it.  You  must 
take  care  that  she  never  discovers  the 
truth.  She  is  not  likely  to  do  so  if 
you  only  keep  still." 

"I  don't  care,"  muttered  Mollie 
Chourka,  sulkily. 

' '  I  care — a  lot.  And  I'm  determined 
she  shall  not  find  out.  You  will  keep 
silent,  Mollie?"  His  tone  all  at  once 
had  become  gentle,  almost  pleading. 

"What  good  it  do  me  to  keep  still?" 
asked  Mollie  in  her  broken  fashion. 

"This  much  good."  There  was  the 
chink  of  silver  as  it  passed  from  his 
hand  to  hers.  "There  is  more  where 
it  came  from,  Mollie,  if  you  never  ad 
mit  the  truth  to  Miss  Lyle." 

"All  right.  I  won't."  She  was  jing 
ling  the  money. 


96  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Good  girl!"  said  Jardine  in  a  re 
lieved  voice.  He  plowed  along  by  the 
side  of  the  house,  and  his  footsteps 
were  lost  in  the  withered  grass  of  the 
prairies. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

"Please  you,  draw  near.     Louder  the  music,  there!" 

— King  Lear. 

/CHRISTMAS  EVE.  Not  the  Christ- 
\-j  mas  Eve  of  a  great  city.  Not  a 
Christmas  Eve  that  meant  crowded 
streets,  and  brilliant  stores,  and  gushes 
of  warmth  from  open  doors,  and  tempt 
ing  odors,  and  laden  pedestrians,  and 
heaps  of  holly  on  the  sidewalk,  and 
roses  in  the  florist's  window,  and  whirl 
ing  vehicles,  and  whiffs  of  fragrance, 
and  clanging  bells,  and  bursts  of  music, 
and  glittering  trees,  and  smiling  faces, 
and  the  possibility  of  all  delightful 
things  to  see  and  to  have,  of  all  de 
licious  things  to  taste.  Not  that  kind 
of  a  Christmas  Eve.  But  a  Christmas 
Eve  out  in  a  little,  new,  crude,  sprawl 
ing,  ugly  Western  town,  where  people, 
stolid,  reckless,  contemptuous,  stupid, 

7  97 


98  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

met  and  mingled  without  assimilating, 
without  a  vestige  of  real  heartiness  or 
good-fellowship;  a  Christmas  Eve  that 
to  the  many  suggested  merely  a  din 
ner  of  unusual  proportion  and  excel 
lence,  and  to  the  few  brought  reminis 
cences  that  could  only  be  flushed  from 
the  memory  by  copious  drafts  of  liquor; 
a  Christmas  Eve  on  which  the  supper 
served  in  the  meeting-house  was  the 
acme  of  social  exhilaration  for  the 
righteous,  and  the  turkey  raffle  in  the 
saloon  the  chief  diversion  of  the  un 
godly. 

It  was  a  typical  Nebraska  winter 
day,  with  a  pale,  splendid,  distant  sky, 
into  which  went  melting  vast  stretches 
of  interminable  prairie.  A  howling 
wind  swept  the  dust  up  from  the  drab 
roads  in  thick  and  swirling  drab  clouds. 

Ivera  Lyle,  setting  her  small  house 
in  order,  and  with  Mollie's  help  pre 
paring  extra  dishes  for  the  morrow, 
recalled,  as  she  gjanced  out,  the  scene 
upon  which  she  had  looked  the  pre 
vious  Christmas  Eve — Michigan  av- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  99 

enue,  stretching  away,  snow-mantled 
and  palace-lined;  the  speeding  sleighs, 
the  tossing  plumes,  the  jingling  bells; 
the  mounted  police  in  their  picturesque 
uniforms;  the  electric  lights  flashing 
out  in  diminishing  perspectives  of  white 
flame;  she  had  looked  out  upon  it  all 
as  she  stood  by  the  window  reading 
Mark's  letter.  ' '  Before  another  Christ 
mas  dawns  I  shall  have  come  for  you, " 
he  had  written.  And  now  it  was  an 
other  Christmas,  and  she  had  come 
to  the  West,  not  as  his  happy  bride, 
but  an  anxious  woman,  bent  on  the 
queerest  quest  that  ever  sprang  from 
a  slight  and  supernatural  source.  She 
had  invested  Mark  with  a  fine  spirit 
of  sacrifice  because  of  his  refusal  to 
claim  her  until  he  could  offer  her  a 
suitable  home.  The  thought  that  he 
was  working  for  her  in  a  strange  place, 
among  strange  people,  appealed  to  her 
affection,  and  kept  it  steadfast.  She 
gave  him  admiration  and  honor  for  the 
moral  heroism  with  which  she  herself 
had  endowed  him.  The  belated  news 


100  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

of  his  death  had  been  a  terrible  shock 
to  her. 

"Ivera!  Help  me!"  How  her  heart 
had  thrilled  with  pain  and  pity  in  re 
sponse  to  that  despairing  entreaty. 

"I  will  help  you,  my  dearest!"  she 
made  answer  over  and  over.  "I  can 
not  bring  you  back,  but  I  shall  learn 
why  your  soul  sent  to  mine  that  strange 
supplication."  Only  once  had  her  de 
votion  been  shaken.  That  was  when 
Mrs.  McLelland  had  spoken  of  Mollie 
Chourka,  but  after  the  appeal  for 
silence  she  had  heard  Jardine  make 
to  the  girl,  all  doubt  of  Mark's  fidelity 
had  vanished,  and  the  distrust  with 
which  she  had  regarded  Jardine  from 
the  first  increased. 

"A  dollar  for  your  thoughts,  dear," 
cried  Rob.  He  was  dressed  and  sit 
ting  in  the  little  parlor,  playing  with 
grace  the  role  of  convalescent. 

' '  They're  not  worth  a  dollar,  Rob. " 

"Then  you  are  thinking  of  the  com 
ing  festivity.  What  a  flirt  you  are, 
Ive!  To  go  to  a  Christmas  dance  in 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  IOI 

Bubble  with  that  monstrous  little 
man!" 

"Who  persuaded  me  to  agree  to  go?" 
flashed  Ivera.  ''You  said  I  need  not 
dance.  You  said  it  would  be  fun  to  look 
on.  You  talked  me  into  it,  Rob. 
Besides — " 

She  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 
There  was  no  reason  she  should  tell 
him  she  hoped  to  meet  Prior  or  El- 
dridge  there — perhaps  both.  A  few 
days  previous  Jennings,  adopting  the 
custom  sanctioned  on  the  plains,  which 
permits  any  young  man  to  call  on  any 
young  woman,  had  donned  his  most 
striking  equestrian  costume  and  ridden 
out  to  the  Lyle  farmhouse.  Being 
duly  presented  by  Robert,  who  had 
met  him  in  town,  he  had  besought 
Ivera  to  accompany  him  to  the  event 
of  the  season,  the  Christmas  dance  to 
be  given  in  Bubble. 

"Go,  Ive!"  Robert  had  urged.  "It's 
deadly  dull  here." 

"But  I  don't  dance." 


102  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Neither  do  I, "  cried  Peter  Jennings, 
cordially . 

The  consideration  that  there  she 
might  find  an  opportunity  for  speech 
with  one  of  the  men  she  wished  to 
meet  influenced  the  girl.  She  con 
sented  to  go.  Mollie  was  to  be  away 
for  Christmas.  Rob  said,  laughingly, 
he  was  glad  to  be  rid  of  women  folks 
for  a  while,  and  enjoy  the  freedom  of 
his  former  condition. 

Jennings  drove  up  a  little  after  eight 
o'clock.  He  was  resplendent  in  the 
glossiest  of  broadcloth,  the  most  glis 
tening  of  linen,  the  whitest  of  ties,  and 
the  yellowest  of  gloves.  His  broad 
face  was  rosier  than  ever.  His  little 
eyes  twinkled  merrily.  His  square, 
white  teeth  showed  in  a  dazzling  smile. 
Rob  looked  him  over  critically. 

"I  say,  Jennings,"  he  questioned 
irreverently,  "where  did  you  get  the 
togs?" 

"In  London,  dear  boy.  I  couldn't 
wear  the  beastly  things  one  gets  at 
this  side  of  the  water,  you  know." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  103 

' '  I  know, "  said  Rob.  He  heaved 
a  sigh,  which  Jennings  divined  to  be 
one  of  deep  and  bitter  envy.  Then 
he  looked  at  Ivera,  who  was  all  in 
soft  furs  and  silk  that  was  the  shade  of 
a  Jacqueminot.  "You  two,"  he  went 
on  solemnly,  ' '  will  simply  paralyze  the 
people." 

"Poor  people!"  Iaughe4  the  girl,  as 
she  lightly  leant  and  kissed  him  good 
bye. 

The  ball  was  held  in  the  Grand 
Opera  House.  This  particular  place 
of  entertainment  was  a  long,  bare, 
roughly-plastered  room,  situated  over 
a  general  store.  It  was  approached 
by  a  flight  of  stairs  that  were  steep, 
narrow,  and  very  dirty.  It  was  lighted 
by  flaring  oil  lamps  under  tin  shades. 
Boards,  each  supported  by  a  chair  at 
either  end,  were  ranged  around  the 
wall  for  the  accommodation  of  those 
who  were  not  dancing.  At  one  end 
of  the  room  were  barrels.  On  the  bar 
rels  were  planks.  On  the  planks  were 
set  two  chairs.  These  chairs  were  oc- 


104  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

cupied  by  men  with  fiddles.  A  third 
man,  pink-shirted,  collarless  and  hav 
ing  smooth  hair,  plastered  in  careful 
curves  on  his  temples,  stood  behind 
the  orchestra,  and  ' '  prompted  "  in  sten 
torian  tones.  The  place  was  well  filled 
when  Ivera  and  Jennings  entered.  A 
vigorous  dance  was  in  progress.  All 
of  the  women  were  bareheaded.  Some 
of  the  men  wore  hats.  The  dancers 
swung,  advanced,  "chasseyed"  and 
retreated  with  much  sprightliness  and 
energy.  Elderly  men  and  women  ac 
tively  participated  in  the  terpsichorean 
proceedings.  The  youth  and  beauty 
of  the  town  and  the  surrounding  ter 
ritory  were  out  in  full  force;  the  youth 
awkward  and  radiant  in  the  unwonted 
novelty  of  white  shirt  and  collar,  the 
beauty  brilliant  in  the  most  blasphe 
mous  of  hues,  maddeningly  modest  in 
the  briefest  of  skirts. 

"Ladies  in  the  center  and  seven 
hands  round!"  yelled  the  prompter, 
dimly  visible  through  the  fog  of  dust 
beaten  up  by  the  pounding  shoes. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  105 

"Balance  to  your  partner — Hi,  there 
you,  Saul  Cotter,  I'm  talkin'  to  you! 
You  ain't  doin'  that  figger  right.  You're 
balancin'  to  corner  'stead  of  to  your 
partner.  Tell  that  girl  in  the  yellah 
dress  she  got  wrong  last  time.  Now, 
boys,  whoop  her  up!  Try  it  again! 
So!"  Then  the  music  blared  out,  the 
dancers  intermingled,  and  the  dust 
again  arose,  an  irritating  incense  to 
pleasure. 

"Queer  crowd,"  Jennings  said  to 
Ivera. 

She  nodded  absently.  She  did  not 
notice  how  many  furtive  glances  were 
cast  in  her  direction,  nor  dream  that 
many  of  the  feminine  dancers  present 
would  later  copy  her  city  clothes  in 
the  cheapest  of  materials.  She  was 
observing  how  little  the  middle-aged 
women  had  sought  to  render  them 
selves  attractive.  Their  gowns  were 
ill-fitting;  their  hair  was  twisted  into 
a  tight  knot  at  the  back  of  the  head; 
they  seldom  smiled,  and  they  moved 
stiffly  as  if  performing  a  solemn  duty. 


106  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

The  surplus  vitality  of  the  men  dis 
played  itself  in  impromptu  jigs  and 
much  swaggering. 

"Oh,"  she  said  suddenly",  "there  is 
Mollie!" 

Somehow  the  sight  of  her  maid, 
attired  in  a  sprigged  muslin  waist, 
streamers  of  pink  ribbon  and  a  blue 
skirt  that  did  not  reach  her  shoe  tops, 
dancing  with  much  spirit  and  evident  en 
joyment,  brought  home  to  Ivera,  as 
nothing  had  hitherto  done,  the  democ 
racy  of  a  new  Western  town,  and  the 
feeling  of  absolute  equality  that  pre 
vailed. 

"Your  servant,  by  George,"  ejacu 
lated  Jennings,  and  he  laughed.  The 
idea  of  mistress  and  maid  meeting  at 
a  social  function  seemed  even  more 
singular  to  him  than  it  did  to  the 
American  girl. 

"Is  Mr.   Prior  here?"    Ivera  asked. 

"Yes — haven't  you  met  him?  That 
is  he  standing  near  Eldridge." 

"That  thin,  starved-looking  little 
man?" 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  107 

"Yes." 

' '  I  wish, "  Ivera  said,  hurriedly,  ' '  that 
you  would  introduce  him." 

"With  pleasure." 

Jennings  brought  up  Prior,  flattered 
and  smirking.  He  was  so  gratified  to 
meet  Miss  Lyle!  It  was  such  a  long- 
hoped-for  honor!  Had  Miss  Lyle  come 
as  a  critic?  It  was  to  be  hoped  that 
she  proved  a  merciful  one.  Miss  Lyle 
was  charmingly  cordial.  Would  not 
Mr.  Prior  sit  down  and  look  on?  Mr. 
Prior  accepted  alertly  the  seat  beside 
her,  indicated  by  the  slightest  with 
drawal  of  her  dusky  skirts. 

"And  now,"  avowed  Miss  Lyle,  with 
the  most  entrancing  air  of  considera 
tion,  "we  shall  let  poor  Mr.  Jennings 
go  and  enjoy  just  one  dance."  The 
snowy  teeth  of  Mr.  Jennings  went  into 
temporary  eclipse  behind  his  thick  lips. 
To  be  supplanted — and  by  Prior! 

' '  Oh,  I — I  seldom  dance,  you  know, " 
he  declared,  with  his  strong  English 
accent,  ( '  and  I — I  wouldn't  care  to,  you 


I08  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

know,  in  such — er — such  a  mixed  as 
semblage." 

"Then,"  Miss  Lyle  said  sweetly, 
"you  will  be  good  enough,  I'm  sure, 
to  see  if  there  is  mail  for  me  at  the 
postoffice.  Mr.  Prior  will  take  care  of 
me  until  you  return." 

So  Jennings  disappeared  down  the 
dirty  stairs,  disgusted  at  the  favor 
shown  Prior,  but  upheld  by  the  con 
sciousness  of  the  impression  his  costume 
made  on  beholders. 

Ivera  Lyle  went  straight  to  the  point. 
"Mr.  Prior,  what  became  of  the  let 
ters  and  personal  effects  of  Mark  Dud 
ley?" 

"They  are  in  my  possession.  Jar- 
dine  decided  they  would  be  safe  in  my 
room  at  the  hotel  until  Rob  could  come 
to  town  to  look  them  over." 

' '  Have  you  any  objection  to  sending 
the  trunk  out  to  the  farm?" 

"Not  the  slightest." 

"Then  send  it  please.  You  may 
know, "in  some  embarrassment,  "that 
there  are  letters  of  mine — " 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  109 

"I  quite  understand.  I  shall  send 
out  the  trunk  in  the  morning.  I  see 
Eldridge  is  steering  in  this  direction. 
Is  he  coming  to  speak  with  you?" 

"I  presume  so.  How  are  you,. Doc 
tor  ?  Yes,  Rob  is  doing  very  well,  thank 
you.  Mr.  Prior,  I  wonder  if  you  could 
secure  a  glass  of  water.  This  dust  is 
choking." 

As  Prior  went  clattering  down  the 
stairway,  Ivera  turned  to  Eldridge. 
"You  attended  Mark  Dudley,  Doctor, 
I  understand?" 

He  gave  a  violent  start.  His  sal 
low,  puffed  face,  with  the  peculiarly 
dilated  eyes,  looked  into  her  own. 
( '  Mark  Dudley  ?  Yes — in  a  way.  That 
is  to  say,  he — he  had  consulted  me." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"Weak  words  have  struck." 

— Julius  Cczsar . 

^LJIS  death  was  sudden?" 

JT1  '  'Comparatively  so.  I  had  known 
for  some  time  that  his  system  was  shat 
tered.  He  had  consulted  me  about  his 
throat  and  heart.  Although  I  detected 
no  serious  symptoms,  I  advised  him. 
I  was  at  a  consultation  at  Gilead  when 
he  died.  Prior  met  me  when  I  re 
turned,  and  took  me  over  to  the  office, 
but  I  was  too  late  to  be  of  help." 
"At  what  hour  did  you  return?" 
"About  an  hour  after  midnight,  I 
think." 

"Of  what  did  he  die,   Doctor?" 
"Of  heart  failure,  following  virulent 
diphtheria. " 

"Does  diphtheria  usually  prove  fatal 
to  an  adult?" 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  III 

It  seemed  to  Eldridge  that  Prior  was 
a  long  time  gone  after  that  water. 
"Not  usually — occasionally.  His  case 
was  exceptional.  His  manner  of  living 
had  rendered  him  susceptible  to  heart 
failure." 

"His  manner  of  living?" 

"Well,  he  and  Rob  drank  pretty 
hard,  and  they  didn't  get  back  any  the 
better  from  their  trips  to  the  river  towns. 
Then  there  was — oh,  I  beg  pardon, 
Miss  Lyle."  .He  jumped  up  in  sudden 
confusion  as  he  recollected  that  Ivera 
Lyle  was  not  the  proper  person  to 
whom  to  confide  the  delinquencies  of 
Mark  Dudley  and  Robert  Lyle. 

"It  is  I  who  should  ask  pardon.  I 
was  curious,  Here  is  Mr.  Prior."  She 
rose,  bowed  to  Eldridge,  tasted  the  glass 
of  water  Prior  had  brought,  smiled  at 
the  arriving  Jennings,  and  turned  away 
with  him. 

' '  B — a — lance  all.  Swing  your  part 
ners  to  the  middle  and  four  hands 
round,"  shrieked  the  prompter.  "  'Al- 
leyman'  left.  Look  out  there,  Fanny 


112  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Pollard — I  said  the  left.  Keep  to  your 
own  set,  you  Si  Bobinet.  Say — some 
on  you  tell  that  jay  with  the  red 
hair  from  Kansas  he  don't  need  to  keep 
on  a-swinging  Mamie  Myers  when  I 
say  '  alleyman. '  Now,  once  more !  Let 
her  go,  boys !  L — a — dy  in  the  center, 
an'  gents  walk  round!"  The  orchestra 
resumed  their  task  of  sawing  the  squeaky 
fiddles.  The  prompter  stamped  his 
foot  and  clapped  his  hands,  and  yelled 
instruction  and  admonitions.  The  shuf 
fling  of  the  heavy  shoes  recommenced. 
The  festivity  was  at  its  height.  In 
the  intervals  of  the  exercise  the  young 
men  fanned  the  girls  with  their  hand 
kerchiefs,  and  the  girls  straightened 
their  waist  ribbons  and  surreptitiously 
twisted  their  bangs,  which  were  be 
coming  moist  and  straight,  Jennings 
offered  Ivera  his  arm  and  led  her  down 
the  stairway.  As  they  reached  the 
street  Jardine,  swinging  along,  caught 
sight  of  them. 

"Miss  Lyle,  what  a  condescension." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  113 

"Please  don't  be  sarcastic.  I  have 
been  interested." 

' '  And  you  are  deadly  tired, "  he  com 
mented  quickly. 

' '  We  are  going  to  have  supper  at  the 
meeting-house, "  Jennings  interposed. 

' '  That  will  be  a  dissipation.  Good 
night,  Miss  Lyle." 

"Good-night." 

A  sheet-iron  stove  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  room  where  the  feast  was  in 
progress.  At  the  further  end  was  a 
cook  stove,  on  which  coffee  stewed  and 
oysters  boiled  in  a  way  to  make  Mon 
sieur  Gouffe  turn  in  his  grave.  The 
timid  light  from  half  a  dozen  lamps 
dignified  the  dinginess  of  the  place. 
On  the  tables,  around  which  hungry 
rustics  clustered,  overdone  turkey  and 
underdone  pie  disported  with  an  au 
dacity,  a  menace,  a  pallid  prodigality 
appalling  to  behold. 

' '  Why,  ef  it  ain't  Miss  Lyle, "  cried 
a  hearty  voice.  ' '  You  set  right  down 
here.  Pa,  he's  gone  to  fetch  me  a 
plate  of  victuals.  Your  young  man  kin 


114  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

git  you  some,  too.  Oh,  Mr.  Jennings, 
is  it?  Glad  to  meet  you,  sir.  You 
been  to  the  dance?  I  wanted  reel  bad 
to  see  the  cavortin',  but  them  legs  of 
mine  wouldn't  let  me  git  up  the  stairs. " 

' '  You  are  looking  well,  Mrs.  McLel- 
land." 

' '  I  bet  I'm  feelin'  lots  better'n  he  is, " 
the  old  lady  asserted  emphatically. 
"It  was  the  day  I  ironed  he  come 
a- walking  in  by  the  alley,  jest  as  cool 
as  any  iceberg  I  ever  see — not  that  I 
ever  seen  one,  to  be  quite  voracious." 

1 '  But  who — "  began  Ivera. 

' '  He  comes  right  in, "  continued  the 
narrator,  ' '  an'  ef  he  doesn't  walk 
straight  up  to  an  apple  tree  an'  begin 
to  eat  it."  She  drew  back  and  gazed 
at  Ivera,  every  single  spiral  of  the  un 
curled  tip  on  her  bonnet  quivering  with 
indignation. 

"If  I  only  knew  who — " 

"I  grabs  a  stick  an'  I  runs  at  him. 
1  Git  out, '  I  expurgates.  He  turns  and 
kind  of  boists  up  his  shoulders — this 
a- way — an'  he  stomps — oh,  yes,  he 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  115 

stomps  at  me.  I  brung  that  stick 
straight  down — it  had  thorns,  too — onto 
his  nose.  Ef  he  didn't  ascend  on  his 
hind  legs,  an'  then  come  down  on  his 
hoofs,  an'  run  at  me.  'Come,'  I 
screeched  to  my  niece,  'an'  bring  a 
broomstick.'  Quick  as  I  says  it  he 
rars'  an'  comes  at  me  again.  I  pro 
pelled  him  a  second  time  over  the  nose . 
A  thorn  gets  in  his  eye.  He  winks  and 
squints — this-a-way — an'  gits  all  blood 
shot  in  the  face.  I  didn't  hit  him  over 
the  horns.  Don't  you  never  hit  one  on 
'em  over  the  horns.  The  horns  is  their 
weppings.  I  could  have  empowered 
him  by  myself  only  fur  my  shortness  of 
breath.  Doublee — that's  Pa's  niece — " 

"What  an  odd  name." 

"  Her  name's  Ellen  Eliza,  but  we  call 
her  Doublee  for  short — she  ups  with 
the  broomstick,  but  he  ups  with  her. 
He  ducks  down  an'  he  hists  up  an'  he 
makes  a  deposition  of  her  onto  me. 
Up  comes  Mrs.  Stebbins  a-runnin'  with 
a  hoe.  'Hit  him  hard!'  I  calls.  'I 
can't!  I'm  a-actin'  on  the  offensive,  an' 


Il6  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

he's  too  scared  to  come  nigh  me.  Hit 
him  hard, '  I  says.  So  she  hits  him  so 
hard  she  knocks  him  down,  an'  away 
she  runs.  '  Come  quick,'  I  calls  again, 
forgettin'  all  about  our  feud  conc:rnin' 
that  there  question  of  etiquette.  '  I 
kilt  him, '  she  shouts  back.  '  Then 
come  back  and  kill  him  again ! '  I  im 
plores  her,  fur  he  was  dancin'  a  polky 
on  his  two  remotest  feet  up  to  Doublee 
and  me.  By  way  of  procrasternationin' 
I  give  him  a  whack  that  near  broke  as 
good  a  broomstick  as  was  ever  in  use 
six  months.  That  time  he  run."  She 
paused,  glowing,  triumphant — a  gladi 
ator  in  repose. 

"Here's  your  supper,  Ma,"  put  in  a 
mild  voice  behind  her  chair. 

"You  jest  hold  on  to  that  supper, 
Pa,  till  I  git  quit  talkin',"  she  com 
manded  tartly.  "Well  Miss  Lyle,  I 
got  Pa  to  go  an'  prevaricate  the  mar 
shal  an'  tell  him  that  if  that  critter 
come  here  any  more  I'd  discontinue  his 
career.  The  marshal  said  he'd  speak 
to  the  aggressive  party,  but  the  very 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  117 

next  day  I  seen  him  eatin'  Miss  Steb- 
bins'  clothesline,  so  I  went  and  got  a 
bed  slat." 

Ivera  nodded  sympathetically.  Jen 
nings  stood  with  a  cup  of  coffee  he  had 
brought  held  sideways,  and  the  coffee 
trickling  down  on  his  immaculate  glove. 

' ' '  Drive  him  down  here, '  I  instructs 
her  at  the  top  of  my  voice.  'Drive 
him  down  here. '  So  she  druv  him.  On 
he  come — never  a-seein'  me.  All  at 
once  he  looks  up.  Our  glances  met. 
I  swings  up  the  bed  slat  an'  I  says, 
'  Old  feller,  do  you  know  me  ? '  I  never 
got  a  chanst  to  use  that  bed  slat.  Fur 
quick  as  he  seen  me,  an'  noted  the 
disparagement  of  my  eyes,  then  he 
grunts  an'  hists  hisself  an'  away  he 
goes — gallopin'.  And  when  Pa  come 
home  I  says  to  him,  'I  aint  any  trou 
badour  of  the  arena,  Pa,  but  I  kin 
lick  any  billy  goat  in  Bubble — or  out'n 
it.'  An'  Pa  he  says — didn't  ye,  Pa? 
'Ye  kin,  Maria— I'll  bet  on  that  ef  I 
am  a  Methodist — ye  kin'." 

Ivera  laughed  until  the  tears  came 


n8  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

into  her  eyes,  and  Jennings'  harvest- 
moon  face  was  one  great  grin  of  appre 
ciation. 

Ivera  gave  Jennings  her  hand  when 
he  left  her  at  the  door.  "  Thank  you 
for  a  pleasant  evening,"  she  said.  He 
drove  off  to  the  ranch  in  a  condition  of 
ecstasy. 

Rob  looked  up  at  his  sister  with  an 
affectionate  smile  as  she  came  into  the 
little  parlor.  "You're  home  early, 
dear.  By  the  way,  do  you  know  the 
whereabouts  of  your  domestic?" 

"Mollie?  She  was  at  the  dance. 
Everyone  was  at  the  "dance.  It  was 
the  oddest  affair,  Rob.  Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"Her  father  was  here  looking  for 
her.  He  says  her  child  is  very  ill — 
dying,  they  think." 

Miss  Lyle  paused  in  the  act  of  pull 
ing  off  her  glove.  "Oh  Rob!  And 
you  could  not  tell  him  where  to  find 
her?  I  must  go  up  there." 

"Where?  Not  to  Chourka's?" 

"Certainly.     Why  not?     It  is  only 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  HQ 

half  a  mile  from  here.  They  should 
know  where  to  look  for  Mollie.  I  may 
be  able  to  help  the  child.  Aunt  Rita's 
children  were  always  ill,  and  I  learned  a 
good  deal  from  her  about  what  to  do 
in  emergencies." 

"I'm  afraid  to  have  you  go  alone, 
Ive." 

"Oh,  I'll  be  quite  safe.  Lie  down 
until  I  get  back,  or,  better  still,  go  to 
bed.  Your  poor  shoulder  will  feel  bet 
ter  lying  down.  Don't  you  see  I  ought 
to  go?" 

She  had  never  been  at  the  home  of 
the  Chourkas,  but  she  had  seen  it  from 
the  road.  She  walked  rapidly  west 
along  the  rough,  brown  road,  a  flitting 
black  shape  in  the  spectral  starlight. 
A  dull  glow  was  visible  in  the  window 
of  the  little  log  hovel  she  approached. 
She  knocked.  The  door  was  opened 
by  a  stout,  full-faced,  black-haired  man. 
He  was  in  his  stocking-feet,  and  had  a 
pipe  between  his  teeth. 

"What  you  want?"  he  demanded 
ungraciously. 


120  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Let  me  in,  please.  I  am  Miss 
Lyle.  I  came  to  tell  you  Mollie  is  at 
the  dance  in  Bubble.  I  supposed  she 
came  home  this  morning.  She  may 
have  gone  to  her  friend's  in  the  town. 
How  is  the  baby?" 

"Him  dying,  I  guess,"  the  man 
answered  laconically,  but  with  .more 
civility  than  he  had  at  first  exhibited. 
"The  old  woman  got  him." 

The  one  room  the  house  contained 
was  so  low  one  could  put  up  his  hand 
and  touch  the  ceiling.  A  ladder  led  to 
a  sort  of  attic.  In  one  corner  was  a 
bed  covered  with  a  patchwork  quilt. 
On  a  table  covered  with  red  oilcloth 
were  fragments  of  food  and  unwashed 
dishes.  In  a  dirty  little  stove  the  fire 
was  almost  out.  A  woman,  in  a  print 
dress,  that  was  adorned,  in  fact  held 
together,  by  patches,  sat  in  a  low  chair. 
She  was  thin  and  stooped.  Her  scanty 
hair  was  almost  white,  and  her  face 
was  seamed  with  many  wrinkles.  Most 
of  her  teeth  were  out.  Her  attitude 
and  expression  indicated  indifference — 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  121 

or  hopelessness.  A  child  about  a  year 
old  lay  across  her  knees.  It  was 
struggling  to  cough,  and  the  sound  of 
its  hoarse  breathing  filled  the  room. 

"Why  don't  you  do  something  for 
the  baby?"  Ivera  cried.  "He  is  very 
sick." 

The  eyes  of  the  woman,  dull,  sad, 
sunken,  were  lifted  to  her  own.  ' '  We 
give  medicines,"  she  said.  Her  glance 
wandered  to  a  vial  on  the  table. 

Ivera  picked  it  up,  read  the  label, 
set  the  bottle  down.  ' '  But  that  isn't 
the  right  kind  of  medicine.  That  will 
not  help  him  any." 

' '  Medicine  man  say  that  cure  every 
thing.  It  cure  chickens." 

"It  won't  cure  the  child.  He  has 
croup.  You  must  keep  him  warm — 
make  him  throw  up, — he  ought  to  have 
a  hot  bath.  Tell  your  son  to  hurry 
and  make  a  good  fire.  There  is  no 
time  to  lose." 

The  brigandish-looking  man  laughed 
in  his  black  beard,  and  the  woman 


122  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

said  listlessly,  ' '  Him  not  my  son — him 
my  husband." 

"What  matter?"  She  turned  to  the 
man  imperiously.  "Make  a  fire,"  she 
ordered.  ' '  Get  the  room  hot.  Put  on 
water.  Here,"  to  the  woman,  "give 
me  the  child.  Haven't  you  a  blanket  ? " 

The  woman  shook  her  head  and 
pointed  to  the  cotton  quilt  on  the  bed. 

"That  won't  do." 

She  looked  at  the  little  limbs,  cramped 
and  purple  under  their  one  calico  gar 
ment,  then  she  took  a  step  backward 
in  the  shadow  of  a  high  press.  There 
was  a  swish  of  silk,  a  crisp,  lawny 
rustle,  then  she  came  forward  with  a 
mess  of  soft  white  flannel  in  her  arms 
and  wrapped  the  shivering  baby  in  it. 

"You  have  mustard?  Give  it  to  me 
quick.  Some  water — lukewarm,  yes, 
that  will  do."  She  held  the  child  close 
in  one  arm  while  with  her  free  hand 
she  stirred  the  mixture. 

' '  You  spoil  dress, "  the  small  patient's 
grandmother  said  warningly. 

Ivera,    trying   to  pour  some  of  the 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  123 

emetic  down  the  throat  of  the  tiny 
sufferer,  called  to  the  man  clattering 
at  the  stove:  "Let  your  wife  attend 
to  the  fire.  You  go  for  the  doctor  and 
Mollie." 

"No  doctor.  Doctor  charge  too 
mooch." 

"Bring  the  doctor!  I'll  pay  him." 
The  child  began  to  writhe  in  her  arms. 
"Another  paroxysm  is  beginning.  If 
we  only  had  hot  water  to  put  him  in — 
oh!" 

The  brassy  cough  sounded  loud  in 
the  little  room.  The  door  opened. 
In  all  her  cheap,  gaudy  finery,  her 
hair  frizzed,  her  face  powdered,  flushed 
with  dancing  and  the  night  wind, 
Mollie  stood  on  the  threshold. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"I  am  a  feather  for  each  wind  that  blows." 

— The  Winter's  Tale. 

THE  girl's  darting  look  encompassed 
her  young  mistress  and  her  parents. 
Then  she  broke  into  a  torrent  of  ques 
tions,  spoken  in  her  native  tongue. 
The  man  replied  to  her,  still  poking  in 
leisurely  fashion  at  the  fire,  and  draw 
ing  deliberate  puffs  at  his  pipe.  Her 
mother,  who  had  taken  her  seat  on  the 
bed,  picked  up  an  ear  of  corn  and 
mechanically  began  to  shell  it  into  a 
tin  boiler. 

"Make  haste,  Mollie!"  Ivera  cried. 
"You  can  make  a  fire.  Get  some  water 
hot — quick,  I  tell  you.  The  baby  is 
very  sick." 

But  Mollie  only  broke  into  loud,  wild, 
childish  crying,  and  stood  there  help 
less,  the  tears  making  streaks  through 
124 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  1 25 

the  red  and  white  powders  with  which 
she  had  superfluously  painted  the  roses 
of  her  face. 

With  a  gesture  of  despair  and  en 
treaty  Ivera  turned  to  the  man.  ' '  Why 
won't  you  go  for  the  doctor?  I've  told 
you  I'll  pay  him.  I'll  pay  you  to  go 
for  him.  Here,  Mollie,  hold  the  little 
fellow.  I'll  make  the  fire." 

But  shrieking  Mollie  shrank  back. 
"I  no  hold  him!"  she  wailed.  "Him 
going  to  die.  Him  shake  so — I  no 
hold  him!" 

The  Eastern  girl  stamped  her  foot 
on  the  dirty  floor.  She  turned  to  the 
crone,  who,  with  bowed  head,  was  ap 
parently  intent  on  her  task.  She  pushed 
the  boiler  aside  and  thrust  the  baby 
into  the  woman's  arms.  The  woman 
held  the  quivering  bundle  with  the 
same  air  of  stolidity  with  which  she 
had  shelled  corn  for  the  young  pigs. 
One  step  brought  Ivera  to  the  stove. 
She  took  the  poker  from  the  man  and 
began  to  rake  out  the  ashes  that  choked 
the  grate.  The  man  made  a  motion 


126  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

as  if  to  help  her,  but  she  flashed  an 
indignant  glance  at  him. 

"I  told  you  to  get  a  physician.  If 
you  won't  do  that  you  need  not  do 
anything."  She  was  filling  the  stove 
with  a  greasy  paper  and  cobs  that  lay 
behind  it. 

"Doctor  no  good.  If  it  going  die, 
it  going  die." 

She  twisted  a  strip  of  paper  into  a 
spiral,  held  it  down  the  lamp  chimney, 
and  thrust  it  among  the  cobs,  which 
blazed  up  bravely.  There  was  a  sound 
in  the  room  which  was  not  the  hoarse, 
strangling  cough  of  the  baby.  It  was 
a  laugh  of  admiration,  low,  lazy,  chuck 
ling.  Ivera  looked  up.  Chourka  was 
regarding  her.  The  teeth  closed  over 
the  pipe  stem,  back  of  the  handsome 
black  beard,  gleamed  white.  The  glow 
in  his  eyes  as  they  dwelt  on  her  brought 
the  blood  to  her  cheeks. 

"What  a  brute  you  are!"  she  com 
mented  frankly. 

He  laughed  louder — a  flattered  laugh 
that  shook  his  heavy  shoulders.  Mol- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  127 

lie  had  crept  over  to  where  the  child 
lay  in  the  loose  clasp  of  her  mother. 
She  was  gazing  down  on  it,  her  round, 
dark  eyes  wide  with  terror. 

"Mollie,"  Ivera  cried  sharply,  as  she 
swung  a  kettle  of  water  on  the  fire 
that  was  roaring  up  the  cracked  stove 
pipe,  "your  father  won't  go  for  the 
doctor.  Do  you  want  your  baby  to 
die?" 

"Oh,  no,   no!     I  go— I  get  him!" 

She  ran  from  the  house.  A  couple 
of  minutes  later  Ivera  heard  the  clatter 
of  a  horse's  hoofs  as  it  tore  toward  the 
town.  Past  the  Lyle  farmhouse,  down 
the  quarry  incline,  over  the  state  line  in 
to  Kansas  and  back  again,  skirting  the 
railroad  track,  past  the  unfenced  lum 
ber-yard,  its  piles  of  boards  looming 
white  in  the  night,  past  the  dark  file 
of  freight  cars,  up  the  deserted  street, 
to  the  office  of  Doctor  Eldridge,  Mollie 
rode  furiously.  She  dropped  from  the 
horse.  There  was  a  light  behind  the 
blind.  She  slammed  back  the  door. 

"Come!"    the    girl-mother    panted. 


128  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

' '  My  baby  going  die — come ! "  Eldridge 
started  up,  as  did  Jardine,  who  was 
sitting  at  the  other  side  of  the  stove. 
"Miss  Lyle,  she  say  hurry!"  Mollie 
entreated. 

The  physician  picked  up  his  hat  from 
the  floor,  put  it  on,  reached  for  his 
medicine  case,  and  went  out  to  the 
stable  in  the  rear  to  hitch  up. 

"What  has  Miss  Lyle  to  do  with 
it?"  Jardine  asked. 

"She  mind  the  boy.  When  I  go 
home  from  dance  she  there.  She  hold 
him.  Him  awful  sick." 

' '  Mollie !"  The  stockman  went  near 
er  the  bright,  fluttering,  young  figure, 
in  its  absurd  finery.  ' '  Have  you  told 
Miss  Lyle  about  —  about  the  baby's 
father?" 

His  voice  was  threatening.  She  cow 
ered  back  from  that  and  the  sternness 
in  his  face. 

"No — no!  I  never  did!  I  hope  to 
die  if  I  did!" 

Then  she  ran  out,  scrambled  up  on 
her  horse  and  went  loping  back.  When 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  129 

she  reached  home  she  saw  her  mistress 
on  her  knees  beside  a  tub  of  steaming 
water.  Her  reddish  silk  sleeves  were 
pushed  well  up  on  her  white  arms. 
She  was  holding  the  little  sufferer  in 
the  water  and  skillfully  bathing  him. 

"Him  better!"  cried  Mollie. 

But  Ivera  said,  "I'm  afraid  not." 
The  palpitating  body  on  her  arm  was 
struggling  hard. 

' '  I  know  him  better! "  avowed  Mollie, 
impertinently.  "His  cough  no  sound 
bad." 

Ivera  did  not  answer.  She  kept  on 
sponging  the  hot  water  over  the  little 
chest  and  throat.  She  noticed  that 
the  breathing  was  more  labored  and 
growing  weaker.  A  shadow  came  be 
tween  her  and  the  light.  She  glanced 
up  at  Eldridge.  Leaning  forward  she 
swept  the  warm  white  flannel  from  a 
chair  near  the  stove,  and,  lifting  the 
baby  into  it,  sat  up.  Eldridge  bent 
over  the  baby,  looked  at  it — listened. 

"Is  there  any  hope,  Doctor?"  Miss 
Lyle  whispered. 


130  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

The  hoarse  cough — much  weaker — 
sounded  again.  The  tiny  face  turned 
livid.  Eldridge  straightened  up  and 
shook  his  head. 

' '  Mollie, "  called  Ivera,  without  look 
ing  up,  "come,  he  may  miss  you — 
may  want  you." 

Reluctantly  Mollie  edged  nearer. 
She  peered  at  the  little  convulsed 
creature  in  Ivera's  arms. 

"Do  you  wish  to  take  him,  Mollie?" 

"No— no!"  panted  Mollie.  Sud 
denly  she  shrieked.  For  with  a  pitiful, 
straining  cry  the  baby  had  struggled 
fiercely,  stiffened — lay  very  still. 

There  was  an  instant  of  silence, 
tense,  profound.  Then  Mollie  sprang 
forward,  tore  the  body  of  her  child 
from  Ivera,  and,  squatting  on  the 
floor,  rocked  backward  and  forward, 
screaming  and  sobbing.  Her  father  lit 
a  fresh  pipe.  Her  mother  picked  up 
another  ear  of  corn,  and  resumed  her 
interrupted  task.  Ivera  took  a  step 
toward  Eldridge.  She  was  pale,  and 
her  dress  was  wet  and  stained.  She 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  131 

spoke  a  few  words  to  the  physician, 
in  a  low  voice.  Despite  her  noisy 
grief  Mollie  heard.  Her  wailing  ceased 
as  suddenly  as  does  that  of  an  easily- 
appeased  but  fractious  child.  She  no 
longer  rocked  herself  violently.  A  sob 
was  stifled  at  her  lips.  She  lifted  a 
flushed,  wet,  smeared,  eager  face. 

' '  A  coffin  ?  "  she  echoed.  ' '  You  buy 
coffin?  It  have  a  plate — an'  handles? 
Oh,  pretty  plate — pretty  handles!" 

' '  Whatever  you  wish, "  replied  Miss 
Lyle. 

Mollie  scrambled  to  her  feet,  and, 
without  even  a  look,  laid  the  dead  child 
down  on  the  bed. 

"Oh,  good,  good!"  she  cried,  gladly, 
and  clapped  her  hands.  "Then  we 
have  plate  an'  handles  to  hang  up  like 
other  people.  Them  so  pretty.  All 
got  them  but  us — the  Stepniks — the 
Chivneys — all  of  them.  No  one  die 
here  before  but  my  sister.  Pa  made 
her  box.  Oh,  handles  an'  plate!  Words 
on  plate  ? "  Her  countenance  was  beam 
ing  with  satisfaction. 


132  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Mollie!  Yes — yes,  words — if  you 
care.  The  name,  you  mean?" 

Mollie  darkened  and  drew  back. 
"Him  got  no  name." 

1 '  I  know.  But  you  can  have  the 
first  name  if  you  like." 

Mollie  looked  down — sidled  up  to  the 
speaker.  When  she  spoke  it  was  in  a 
whisper. 

"The  man  be  mad  if  I  tell  you  that." 

"What  man?" 

"That  man, "  with  a  jerk  of  her  head. 
Ivera  looked  toward  the  door.  For 
the  first  time  her  gaze  rested  on  Jar- 
dine,  who  had  come  in  with  the  doctor 
and  was  now  talking  to  him. 

"  Oh ! "  she  said  softly.  Then,  ' '  Tell 
Mr.  McLelland  to  put  ' Mollies  Baby ' 
on  the  plate.  Won't  that  do?"  She 
was  putting  on  her  hat  and  coat  as 
she  spoke. 

"That  so  nice!"  cried  Mollie,  de 
lightedly. 

Miss  Lyle  walked  to  the  door.  The 
men  moved  aside.  Eldridge  spoke 
hastily. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  133 

1 '  May  I  drive  you  home,  Miss  Lyle  ? 
Jardine,  I'll  wait  for  you  and  drive 
you  into  town.  You  can  walk  as  far 
as  Rob's." 

"All  right,"  returned  Jardine.  His 
eyes  were  intent  upon  Ivera,  but  she 
did  not  look  at  him,  nor  give  any  in 
timation  that  she  was  aware  of  his 
presence.  Eldridge  drove  her  home. 
She  opened  the  door  that  was  on  the 
latch,  and  went  into  the  front  room. 
The  lights  were  burning,  but  Rob  had 
gone  to  bed.  She  stood  listening  until 
she  heard  the  sound  of  firm  footsteps 
coming  down  the  road,  then  voices  and 
the  roll  of  wheels. 

After  a  while  Rob — who  had  not 
slept — heard  low  sobbing. 

"What  is  the  matter,  dear?"  he 
called  out. 

"Nothing,"  she  said,  impatiently. 
"  Go  to  sleep.  I'm  tired.  That's  all. " 


CHAPTER  XL 

"But,  shall  I  speak  my  conscience?" 

— Henry  VI. 

SNOW,  fine  and  feathery,  fell  toward 
morning.  The  day  dawned  di 
vinely.  The  oppressive,  intimate  Ne 
braska  sky  that  lowers  above  the  plains 
seemed  more  deeply  domed,  and  farther 
away  than  usual.  Its  tint  was  the  soft, 
grayish  blue  of  a  wild  pigeon's  wing. 
Pale  and  fleecy  clouds  hovered  in  the 
north.  The  world  was  a  world  of  sil 
ver,  for  the  snow  and  the  sunshine 
and  the  mists  had  produced  a  marvel 
ous  mirage,  in  which  clumps  of  cotton- 
woods  drifted,  and  farmhouses  floated, 
and  in  which  all  objects  were  unreal 
and  without  anchorage.  Nowhere  was 
there  any  color,  only  delicate  shadings 
and  the  glitter  of  the  dry  snow  that 
fell  like  diamond  dust  in  powdery  pro- 
134 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  135 

fusion  from  brown  branches.  Even 
the  sun  was  only  a  great  silver  ball 
swimming  in  a  silver  sea.  The  Lyles 
breakfasted  late.  Both  were  homesick, 
so  they  talked  much  and  laughed  often. 

Ivera  had  merely  mentioned  the  fact 
that  Mollie's  baby  had  died.  Rob  was 
afraid  she  might  ask  some  embarrass 
ing  questions,  but  beyond  the  simple 
statement  she  said  nothing  on  the  sub 
ject. 

"Now,"  Rob  declared,  rising  from 
the  table,  "I'm  going  to  take  you  for 
a  drive.  We  have  no  other  way  of 
celebrating  Christmas,  and  it's  such  a 
rattling  fine  day." 

They  drove  for  hours,  west  and 
north,  and  east,  and  then  south  again. 
They  talked  of  home  and  friends,  but 
neither  spoke  of  acquaintances  in  the 
new  world  wherein  they  found  them 
selves.  Everywhere  the  cornstalks,  tat 
tered  and  tawny,  towered  above  the 
white-clad  mold.  Here  and  there  on  the 
uplands  it  had  been  cut  and  stacked, 
the  pointed  shocks  looking  like  gypsy 


136  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

tents  or  the  camps  of  a  resting  army. 
The  creek  was  outlined  by  a  hazy  pur 
ple,  the  same  shadow  seeming  to  tinge 
the  bluffs  that  rose  beyond.  Still  fur 
ther  away  were  vistas  of 

"Ground's  most  gentle  complement, 
As  if  God's  finger  touched  but  did  not  press. " 

It  was  when  they  were  in  Kansas, 
on  high  ground,  and  driving  northward, 
that  Ivera  pointed  to  the  left. 

"Is  not  that  a  cemetery?" 

"Oh,  yes — one  of  them."  There 
was  evasion  in  the  reply. 

"  Is  it  the  one  in  which  Mark  Dudley 
is  buried?" 

"Yes." 

"Let  me  out  here,  please." 

He  drew  rein  on  the  hill.  His  sister 
stepped  out  and  walked  across  the  wet 
drab  grass  toward  the  scattered  mounds 
and  the  upright  slabs  of  stone.  No 
fence  or  barrier  railed  this  spot  off  from 
the  rest  of  the  prairies.  Several  of  the 
graves  were  decorated.  One  was  cov 
ered  with  oyster  shells.  Another  had 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  137 

paper  flowers  in  a  glass  case.  On  a 
few  little  flags  hung  limply.  But  where 
the  decorations  were  visible  the  earth 
had  been  freshly  turned.  Others  were 
covered  only  by  the  bleached  grass  and 
the  snow.  There  were  not  half  a  score 
of  slabs  in  all — only  one  that  was  im 
posing.  Ivera  stood  and  read  the  lines 
on  the  pretentious  headstone: 

Sacred  to  tl)C  Weniorp 

OF 

/foarh  /ibcvcDitb  DuDleg,  etc. 

"Jump  in,  quick,  dear,"  Robert 
urged,  when  she  returned  to  the  road. 
' '  This  ghastly  place  gives  a  fellow  cold 
shivers  down  his  spine." 

"Rob,  who  paid  for  that  extraordi 
nary  headstone?" 

"Prior  and — and  I." 

"And  Mr.  Jardine?" 

"Great  Scott,  no!  What  had  Jar- 
dine  to  do  with  it?" 

' '  I  was  only  wondering.  I  saw  him 
last  night." 


138      *         LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Jardine?  He  used  never  to  go  to 
dances. " 

"I  did  not  see  him  at  the  dance. 
I  saw  him  at  Chourka's." 

"Lord!  Jardine  out  at  that  scoun 
drelly  Bohemian's!  What  took  him 

there?" 

"How  should  I  know?  He  drove 
out  there  with  Dr.  Eldridge,  I  believe." 

"Who  went  for  Eldridge?" 

"Mollie." 

"Were  you  at  the  house  before  Mol 
lie  got  back  from  the  dance?" 

"Yes,   I  sent  her  to  town." 

"Oh,  then  she  probably  met  the 
men  together,  and  mentioned  that  you 
were  there,  so  Jardine  went  out  with 
Eldridge." 

"What  difference  would  my  being 
there  make  to  Mr.  Jardine?" 

Robert  waited  to  reach  out  with  his 
whip  and  fleck  a  clod  from  the  shoulder 
of  the  off  horse  before  he  answered. 
"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that  exactly. 
You  don't  get  this  kind  of  a  sunset  back 
in  Illinois." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY        •        139 

When  they  reached  home  Mollie  was 
waiting  on  the  doorstep. 

"What  is  it,  Mollie?"  Miss  Lyle 
asked. 

"I  come  some  more  to  work." 

"But,   Mollie— the  baby!" 

' '  Him  put  in  ground.  I  got.  plate 
an'  two  handles — all  shiny  an'  pretty." 

"He  is  buried?  Where?" 

"  Out  in  pasture." 

' '  Why   did   you  bury  him  there  ?  " 

"My  father  say  one  place  good  as 
another, "  returned  Mollie,  indifferently. 

She  went  about  her  accustomed 
duties  with  her  ordinary  air  of  sullen- 
ness.  She  did  not  speak  unless  ad 
dressed,  then  her  answers  were  of 
the  briefest.  But  when,  after  supper, 
Ivera  went  into  the  kitchen  to  give 
her  some  directions,  Mollie  asked,  with 
out  lifting  her  head:  "Mr.  Dudley — 
him  friend  of  yours?" 

Her  mistress  turned  quickly.  "Yes 
— oh  yes.  I  knew  him  well." 

4 '  So  pretty  man, "  Mollie  said,  plain 
tively. 


140  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

' '  He  was  handsome, "  Ivera  returned, 
coldly.  She  moved  toward  the  door. 

"Don't  go!"  begged  Mollie. 

Ivera  paused.  Mollie  was  washing  a 
plate  with  much  unnecessary  energy. 

"Was  Mr.  Dudley  going  to  marry 
you  ? " 

Miss  Lyle  hesitated.  Then  she  said: 
"Yes." 

Mollie,  pouring  boiling  water  over  her 
dishes,  suddenly  screamed.  She  had 
poured  it  over  her  wrist  also. 

"Oh,  dear!"  Ivera  cried.  "That 
is  too  bad,  Mollie!  Wait  a  minute  till 
I  tie  it  up.  Here,  let  me  put  on  this 
soda  and  the  white  of  egg.  There — 
don't  cry!  I'll  tie  this  handkerchief 
over.  It  is  old  and  soft.  Stand  still." 

She  worked  quickly  and  deftly. 
Mollie,  standing  there  dumb  and  re 
sentful,  noticed  the  slim,  white  fingers 
hovering  with  butterfly  touches  over 
her  huge,  rough,  toil-hardened  hands. 
She  jerked  her  hand  away  so  sud 
denly  the  faintly  fragrant  handkerchief 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  141 

fell  to  the  floor.     Her  pretty,  babyish 
face  flushed  darkly. 

"I  hate  you!"   she  panted  bitterly, 
"I  hate  you!" 

"Mollie!"  helplessly.  "Why  do 
you  say  that?" 

' '  I  hate  you, "  the  girl  repeated.  Then 
she  flung  her  blue  print  apron  over 
her  head,  and  sank  cowering  and  sob 
bing  in  a  chair.  Ivera  looked  at  her  a 
minute,  then  turned  and  went  away. 
When  she  came  back  later  the  dishes 
had  been  set  away,  and  Mollie,  a  great 
scarlet  blotch  on  her  wrist,  was  sweep 
ing. 

' '  I  sorry  I  tell  you  that, "  she  mut 
tered. 

' '  Very  well.  We  will  think  no  more 
about  it." 

"But  Mr.  Dudley—" 

"No,"  Ivera  interrupted,  with  gentle 
severity,  "we  shall  not  speak  of  Mr. 
Dudley." 

"But,"  persisted  Mollie,  leaning  on 
her  broom,  "you  say  him  dead." 

"Yes,  he  is  dead." 


142  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Mollie  slowly  shook  her  head.  A 
smile  that  was  half  mysterious,  half 
malicious  crossed  her  lips. 

"Him  do  live,"  she  said. 

-Mollie!" 

"Oh,  I  know  him  not  dead.  Can 
Mr.  Rob  hear?" 

"No,  he  is  asleep.  Go  on."  Ivera 
gripped  her  fingers  tight,  and  held  her 
breath. 

"It  was  when  my  sister  I  did  told 
you  of,  that  got  no  plate  or  handles, 
was  very  sick.  She  tell  me  get  doctor. 
I  take  lantern  an'  walk  to  Bubble. 
When  I  got  near  town  buggy  come. 
I  wave  lantern.  When  buggy  stop  I 
say,  'This  doctor?'  Eldridge  him  al 
ways  have  lantern.  A  man  say  '  No. ' 
Then  buggy  drive  quick  away.  But 
two  peoples  was  in  buggy.  One  was 
Mr.  Jardine.  One  was  Mr.  Dudley." 

Ivera  Lyle  drew  a  long,  full  breath. 
"Supposing  so,  what  has  that  to  do 
with  Mr.  Dudley's  death?" 

Nodding  mysteriously,  Mollie  drew 
nearer. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  143 

"When  I  get  to  Bubble  folks  say: 
'  Mark  Dudley  dead.  Him  died  eleven 
o'clock  night  before  last  one.  They 
take  him  on  hill  yesterday. '  I  go  there. 
I  see  new  grave.  I  know  what  in  it  they 
call  Mark  Dudley,  but  I  know,  too — " 
She  stopped  short,  flinging  out  her 
hand  with  a  little  incredulous  gesture. 

' '  Jardine  —  always  Jardine !"  Ivera 
thought  passionately.  Jardine  in  her 
strange  vision !  Jardine  cautioning  Mol- 
lie  to  silence !  Jardine  at  the  Chourkas ! 
And  now  —  Jardine  again!  She  had 
not  been  mistaken  then  in  from  the 
first  associating  him  with  the  sudden 
death  of  her  lover?  Was  he  dead?  If 
not,  where  had  he  been  spirited?  And 
for  what  motive? 

"Have  you  spoken  to  Mr.  Jardine 
about  this?" 

"Once.  He  look  hard  at  me.  Then 
he  laugh,  an'  say:  'You  was  dream, 
Mollie." 

' '  But  he  warned  you  not  to  tell  me 
about  it?" 


144  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

' '  No.  He  never  say  that.  He  only 
say  I  have  dream." 

1 '  He  did  not  make  you  promise  not 
to  tell  me  about  it?" 

' '  Not, "  Mollie  declared,  in  confusion, 
"not— about  that." 

"About  what,  then?" 

Mollie  walked  away  to  set  her  broom 
in  the  corner.  ' '  I  don't  have  talk  'bout 
that, "  she  said.  ' '  I  never  tell  you  any 
thing, "  she  went  on,  without  turning 
her  head,  ' '  only  you  get  me  shiny  plate 
and  pretty  handles." 

"But,  Mollie,  when  you  saw  a  man 
alive,  whom  everyone  else  believed  to 
be  dead,  why  did  you  not  speak  about 
it?  People  might  have  been  doing 
something  very  wrong.  You  should 
have  spoken." 

"I  don't  want  get  put  in  jail.  Lots 
peoples  gets  put  in  jail." 

' '  But  you  think  you  saw  Mr.  Jardine 
driving  Mr.  Dudley  out  of  town  at  the 
time  folks  in  Bubble  considered  him 
dead  and  buried." 

Mollie's  full  mouth  curved  contempt- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  145 

uously.  "Don't  you  'spose, "  she  ques 
tioned  insolently,  ' '  I  know  Mark  when 
I  see  him?" 

M  ark !  The  hot  color  flew  over  I vera's 
throat  and  face.  Mark! 

' '  You  mean  Mr.  Dudley, "  she  said, 
quietly. 

Mollie  swung  around.  Her  full,  sup 
ple  young  form  seemed  to  swell  and 
pulsate.  There  was  a  deep,  bold  look 
in  her  eyes  that  instantly  recalled  to 
Ivera  the  man  who  had  leered  at  her 
across  the  kitchen  stove  the  night  pre 
vious. 

"I  mean  Mark!" 

For  a  minute  neither  spoke.  Then 
Miss  Lyle  said:  "You  must  not  speak 
to  me  again,  Mollie,  of  any  gentleman 
I  know — or  have  known.  Have  break 
fast  ready  at  seven.  Mr.  Lyle  is  leav 
ing  for  a  trip."  She  passed  into  the 
front  room  and  closed  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"To  be  slow  in  words  is  a  woman's  only  virtue!" 
—  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

THE  next  day  Ivera  drove  Rob  into 
Bubble  to  catch  the  train  for 
Omaha. 

"I'll  be  back  the  day  after  to-mor 
row,  sure,"  he  promised.  "I'll  bring 
you  some  fruit,  and  candy,  and  some 
thing  to  read.  It's  beastly  lonely  for 
you  out  here,  after  the  life  you've 
been  accustomed  to.  Better  visit  Mrs. 
Me  and  talk  to  her  a  while  before 
you  drive  back.  She  will  cheer  you 
up.  She  always  does  me.  Jerusalem! 
How  mad  she  was  when  she  found  I 
did  not  require  Pa's  tender  care!"  He 
laughed  with  boyish  heartiness  at  the 
recollection. 

1 '  Cheer  me  up ! "  disdainfully.  ' '  Yes 
— with  the  recital  of  some  of  her  mor- 
146 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  147 

tuary  memories.  For  people  who  have 
been  only  a  few  weeks  in  the  under 
taking  business  they  have  the  most 
varied  assortment  of  experiences  to 
relate  one  could  imagine.  Did  she  tell 
you  about  the  very  tall  man  who  was 
supposed  to  be  fatally  ill,  for  whom 
4  Pa '  shipped  in  a  '  coffing  ? '  No  ?  Well, 
the  man  didn't  die,  and  now  Pa  is 
undecided  whether  he  ought  to  retain 
the  casket,  in  the  hope  of  later  securing 
him,  or  some  individual  of  similar  pro 
portions,  or  chop  a  piece  off  the  end 
and  complete  it  to  fit  the  ordinary 
mortal." 

Rob's  joyous  laugh  rang  out  again. 
"She's  great,  Ive!  She's  the  salt  of 
my  existence  out  here.  She's  my  social 
salvation."  He  glanced  at  his  watch, 
and  whipped  up  the  horses. 

' '  She  evidently  considers  you  a  sad 
reprobate. " 

' '  Of  course.  That  is  why  she  likes 
me." 

' '  You  graceless  egotist ! " 

' '  Honestly,  dear — there's  the  whistle 


148  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

now! — go  up  to  see  her.  And  switch 
her  off  from  'shop.'  Get  her  to  tell 
you  about  her  ministers.  She's  strong 
on  ministers  when  she  gets  started. 
Good-bye.  Take  care  of  yourself." 

When  Ivera  knocked  at  Mrs.  Mc- 
Lelland's  door  she  heard  within  the 
sound  of  a  harsh  and  grating  noise. 

' '  Come  in, "  called  the  familiar  voice 
of  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

Ivera  opened  the  door,  but  hesitated 
on  the  threshold.  Was  this  her  stately 
visitor — her  majestic  neighbor?  This 
old  woman,  gowned  in  the  most  limp 
and  faded  of  cotton  garments,  her  teeth 
out,  her  nose  and  chin  almost  meeting, 
her  hair  just  a  gray  frazzle  around  her 
shrewd  old  face. 

"Set  down.  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 
No,  you  won't  bother  me  a  mite.  I 
was  goin'  to  quit,  anyhow.  I'm  plum 
beat  gittin'  that  spider  cleaned.  I 
scraped  it  for  'n  hour  with  a  stone,  and 
then  let  it  set  with  some  hot  fat  in  it, 
an'  scraped  again.  Of  all  the  plaguey 
things  a  rusted  spider  's  wors  'n  any." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  149 

Ivera  looked  at  the  battered  iron  pan 
in  the  firm  old  hand.  ' '  It  isn't  worth 
all  that  work,  is  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"Mebbe  not,"  dryly,  "but  you  see 
we  ain't  Cresotes,  me  and  Pa.  He 
ain't  sold  but  one  coffing  this  week, 
an'  that  was  fur  Moll  Chourka's  child. 
The  profit  on  that  ain't  goin'  to  more'n 
keep  us  in  sweetnin'  fur  our  coffee  an' 
Composition  Tea  fur  a  month.  Pa  says 
there  ain't  no  money  in  babies,  any 
way." 

"But  I  understood  Mr.  McLelland 
was  rich." 

"What  say?"  She  ceased  scraping 
the  pan,  and  looked  up  alertly.  ' '  Rich  ? 
Well,  he's  got  some.  But  I  give  him 
his  start.  Yes,  sir,  I  had  two  hun 
dred  dollars  saved,  an'  I  give  it  to 
him.  That  was  over  thirty  year  ago. 
He  owes  me  that  money  an'  interest 
now — yes,  interest.  Fur  all  the  time 
I've  been  married  to  Pa  I  ain't  spent 
a  dime  once  that  I  didn't  look  at  it 
twice  first.  I  worked  hard  when  I 
was  young.  I  raised  more  bronze 


150  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

turkeys  than  you  ever  seen.  I  bet  you 
never  raised  a  bronze  turkey.  No? 
That's  what  I  expatiated.  Well,  its 
harder'n  raisin'  a  stepchild — an'  that's 
hard  enough.  I  know.  I've  done  both. 
Onct,  when  I  lived  near  Chicago,  a 
funny  thing  happened.  A  city  lady 
was  out  to  my  place.  She  was  repairin' 
her  health.  I  called  her  to  the  back 
door  long  about  the  time  I  knowed 
the  turkeys  would  be  streakin'  up  the 
field.  After  a  while  along  they  come — 
the  purtiest  sight  you  ever  seen.  My, 
but  they  was  fat,  and  worth  twenty 
cents  to  the  pound.  Would  you  believe 
it?  that  woman  kinder  looked  at  them, 
an'  then  gazed  kind  of  dreamy  like  over 
their  very  heads,  an'  says  she :  '  What 
a  beautiful  view  you  have  from  here, 
Mrs.  McLelland!'  Yes,  she  did.  Beau 
tiful — view!  Jest  a  lot  of  water  an' 
trees.  An'  never  a  word  about  them 
fat  turkeys.  I  ain't  had  much  use  for 
city  women  sence  then.  I  reely,  don't 
think,  though,"  she  concluded  chari- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  151 

tably,  ' '  that  she  was  quite  right  in  her 
head." 

"Perhaps  not,"  Ivera  acquiesced, 
gently.  Then  she  volunteered  the 
statement  that  she  had  driven  Rob  in 
to  catch  the  train  for  Omaha. 

"Omaha,  eh?"  The  bright  old  eyes 
blinked  at  her.  ' '  I  wonder  if  he'll  come 
home  sober  this  time." 

"Rob!  Why,  Mrs.  McLelland,  Rob 
doesn't  drink!" 

"Oh,  mercy  me!"  cried  Mrs.  Mc 
Lelland.  She  set  down  the  frying  pan 
and  laughed  until  her  huge  body  shook 
so  that  every  heavy  white  dish  in  the 
closet  clattered  in  sympathy.  "Rob 
ain't  that  kind — not  Rob  Lyle!  Next 
thing  you'll  be  sayin'  mebbe  is  that 
that  old  crony  of  his'n — who  had  to 
go  an'  with  the  angels  stand  before 
Pa  bought  out  the  undertakin'  business 
here,  or  he'd  have  been  put  under 
cheaper  an'  with  moire  style  than  Ma- 
hasby  put  him  fur  the  same  money — 
I  s'pose  you'll  say  that  he  didn't  drink 
neither,  or  do  nothin'  else  he  ought  to 


152  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

be  ashamed  on.  Ef  ever  there  was 
a  pair  of  angelical  sperits  it  was  them 
two— Rob  Lyle  an'  Mark  Dudley!" 

-Mrs.   McLelland,   I—" 

"I  ain't  a-blamin'  you  a  lick.  But 
that  there  Dudley  ought  to've  known 
he  couldn't  promulgate  existence  much 
longer  at  the  rate  he  was  a-livin'!" 

"But,   Mrs.    McLelland—" 

"Oh,  a  nice  fellow — yes.  Hand 
some,  an'  allus  a-laughin' — liked  well 
enough,  too.  But  my!  Weren't  he  reck 
less  and  dissipated,  an'  in  fur  deviltry 
that  didn't  care  who  it  hurted?" 

"You  don't  know,  I  think,  that  I 
was  to  have  married  Mark  Dudley." 

The  undertaker's  wife  slowly  greased 
the  pan  she  had  taken  up  and  placed 
it  on  the  stove.  Then  she  fished  her 
teeth  out  of  the  water  bucket  and  de 
liberately  inserted  them. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  didn't.  You 
ought  to  be  right  thankful  to  the  Lord 
that  saved  you  from  doin'  it.  Ef  I'd 
been  prevented  by  a  merciful  provi 
dence  from  cleavin'  to  my  first  or  sec- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  153 

ond,   I'd  have  less   experience  to-day 
and  more  peace  of  mind." 

Miss  Lyle's  lips  were  trembling  a 
little,  but  there  was  a  smile  in  her 
eyes. 

"You  were  married  three  times?" 

' '  Was  I  ?  The  first  was  that  smart 
a  body  couldn't  fool  him.  The  sec 
ond  was  that  simple  he  warn't  worth 
foolin'.  But  Pa — "  She  paused  ex 
pressively.  "There's  this  I  will  say, 
though, "  she  concluded  briskly,  ' '  there 
ain't  one  on  'em  that  ever  talked  poetry 
to  me.  That's  a  thing  I  wouldn't  have 
stood.  Would  you?" 

Miss  Lyle's  brows,  with  their  beau 
tiful  curve,  like  the  sweep  of  a  black 
bird's  wing,  were  ever  so  slightly  lifted. 
"How  can  I  tell,  Mrs.  McLelland?" 

"Oh,  to  be  sure!  "disdainfully.  "You're 
that  young.  Well,  I  asked  my  niece 
who  had  the  oyster  weddin'  whatever 
her  and  Hiram  was  a-talkin'  about  at 
the  gate  till  all  hours — nigh  on  to  ten 
some  nights.  An'  she  said  he  was 
talking  poetry.  Did  you  ever  hear  the 


154  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

beat  of  that?  Poetry!  When  folks 
git  to  that  I  ain't  got  one  more  word 
to  say.  Thank  heaven,  my  two  first, 
with  all  their  peculations,  never  as 
much  as  matriculated  poetry  to  me. 
Fur  as  Pa  goes,  he  couldn't  tell  poetry 
from  porcupine — an'  he  ain't  ever  be 
come  acclimated  to  porcupines.  An' 
I'm  glad  on  it.  Ef  there's  anythin'  I 
despise  its  hearin': 

'  The  rose  is  red,  the  vi'lets  blue, 
Sugar  is  sweet,  an'  so  is  you.' 

I  got  sense  enough  to  know  colors 
without  bein'  told,  an'  when  things  go 
right  I'm  sweet,  an'  when  they  go 
wrong  I  ain't." 

Ivera  recollected  Rob's  advice.  "I 
think  I  heard  you  have  a  minister  in 
town  now, "  she  said. 

"We  have  that — a  pretty  one.  I'll 
tell  you  the  way  he  served  me.  Pa 
is  a  Methodist,  an'  a  prominent  one  at 
that.  Why,  when  they  talked  of  build- 
in'  a  church  here  last  meetin',  Pa  he 
stood  right  up  an'  put  his  hand  in  his 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  155 

pocket  an'  give  seventy-five  cents — 
yes,  he  did.  Who  opens  up  the  meet- 
in'  house  for  service  ?  Pa.  Who  builds 
the  fires?  Pa.  Who  rings  the  bell? 
Pa.  Who  brings  the  preacher  home 
with  him  to  dinner?  Pa.  An'  I  kin 
tell  you  it  takes  a  pretty  prominent 
man  to  do  all  that.  Sunday  mornin' 
the  preacher  told  in  meetin'  as  how  he 
wanted  to  transpose  his  fambly  here  from 
lowy,  an'  that  he  didn't  have  but  two 
dollars  an'  sixteen  cents.  He  asked 
the  congregation  to  help  him  to  do 
mestic  delight  by  a  conscription.  Now, 
though  I  don't  approve  of  preachers 
progenitin'  famblies  in  as  copious  a 
manner  as  they  do,  an'  neither  I  know 
does  Pa,  our  last  minister  havin'  near 
nine  children  when  he  left  here,  an' 
this  one  bein'  possessed  of  posterity  to 
the  extent  of  two  an'  a  half  sets  of  twins, 
yet  when  he  said  that,  an'  everyone 
kept  so  shet  of  breath  you  could  hear 
the  windmill  down  at  the  depot  a-swig- 
gerin'  round,  Pa  he  stands  up  an'  he 
says:  'Never  shall  it  be  said  that  a 


156  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

poor  and  prolific  preacher  appealed  to 
me  in  vain!'  He's  a  powerful  affluent 
orationist  when  he  gets  a  start,  is  Pa. 
'Here  am  I,'  he  says,  'a  undertaker 
whose  business  is  bad  at  present,  but 
I'm  going  to  shame  the  rest  on  you.' 
With  that  he  planks  down  a  quarter. 
His  example  was  contiguous.  They 
all  paid  up  then.  When  that  preacher 
sat  down  to  our  table  he  was  richer 
by  three  dollars  an'  twenty-three  cents. 
Who  was  to  thank?  Pa." 

The  shapeless  form  swathed  in  the 
brown  calico  quivered  with  pride.  Miss 
Lyle,  her  pretty  chin  propped  on  one 
little  gloved  hand,  murmured  a  eulo 
gistic  word  or  two. 

"I  treated  him  kind,"  Mrs.  McLel- 
land  panted  on.  ' '  I  give  him  all  the 
skim  milk  he  could  drink,  an'  I  told 
him  ef  he  was  used  to  piecin'  to  step 
into  the  butt'ry  at  any  time,  an'  get 
hisself  some  bread  and  sorghum.  Now 
what  more'n  that  could  a  body  say?" 
Ivera  gently  inferred  that  such  hospi- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  157 

tality  scouted   suggestion  as   it   defied 
criticism. 

"That  day  we  had  potpie  fur  din 
ner,  an'  ef  there's  one  thing  I  can  make 
its  potpie.  To  be  sure  the  rooster  was 
three  year  old,  but  after  I'd  soaked 
him  over  night  and  biled  him  hard 
fur  four  hours  he  was  that  tender 
you'd  think  you  was  eatin'  stewed 
feathers.  I'd  mixed  dough  of  sour 
milk  an'  sody,  an'  cooked  it  right  in 
with  the  chicking.  '  Did  you  ever  taste 
such  chicking  potpie  as  that  before?' 
I  asks  the  preacher.  He  considers 
like.  Then  he  recapitulates:  'Onct.' 
I  began  to  approximate  wrath,  but  I 
knowed  he  was  only  trying  to  discom 
mode  my  equilibrium,  so  I  asks — 
holdin'  back  the  second  spoon  of  soup 
till  I  heerd  the  answer:  'Where?'  An' 
he  says:  'Here — onct.'  Then  I  give 
him  the  other  spoon  of  soup,  an'  we 
all  laughed  an'  laughed.  I  says:  'I 
remember — but  we  had  watermillion 
that  day,  too.  We  lived  on  the  farm 
then.  We  ain't  got  any  watermillion 


158  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

today.'  But  he  repudiates  me  fur 
that.  'Mrs.  McLelland,'  he  says,  'I'm 
that  there  full  of  this  here  potpie  I 
couldn't  partake  of  watermillion  ef  it 
was  visible  to  the  denuded  eye  this 
minitr 

The  soft  pink  in  the  listener's  cheek 
had  deepened  into  a  rose. 

"That  was  a  tribute!"  she  said 
warmly. 

' '  We  had  what  was  left  of  the  pot- 
pie  cold  for  supper,  an'  jest  as  the 
preacher  finished  soppin'  up  the  last 
speck  of  gravy  with  a  bit  of  bread 
he  says:  'To-night  I'm  goin'  to  an 
nounce  a  protracted  revival  meetin'.' 
'When  to  begin?'  I  asks.  'To 
morrow  evenin','  he  says.  Then  I 
tells  him  straight:  'No,  you  ain't. 
Pa  can't  be  revived  jest  now.  He's 
got  a  shoat  to  kill  to-morrow,  an'  he 
can't  bother  about  the  bell.  He's  got 
corn  to  shell,  an'  he  won't  have  no 
time  to  go  buildin'  fires.'  He  says: 
'Can't  them  things  wait?'  And  I  ex 
postulates  they  couldn't.  'Procraster- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  159 

natin','  I  says,  'Pa  never  was,  an' 
procrasternatin'  Pa  never  will  be.  A 
nice  revivin'  you'd  have  without  Pa — 
the  pretty  voice  he's  got,  too.'  No 
more  was  said  then,  but  that  night 
when  I  looked  at  that  preacher  a- 
prayin',  I  says  to  myself:  'Well,  ef 
you  ain't  got  the  queerest  shaped  head 
that  was  ever  hung  onto  any  man!" 

"What  kind  of  a  head  was  it?" 
questioned  Miss  Lyle  from  behind  the 
bit  of  cambric  held  over  her  rebellious 
lips. 

' '  I  can't  eggsactly  make  my  meanin' 
reprehensible  to  you,  but  it  was  that 
kind  of  a  shape  that  ef  I  was  a  widow 
next  week,  which  I've  been  twice  before, 
an'  ef  he  was  the  only  man  to  be  had, 
I  wouldn't  have  him." 

Ivera  insinuated  that  this  was  stat 
ing  the  case  very  strongly  indeed. 

' '  While  I  was  convolving  this  in  my 
mind  I  heard  him  say:  'Brethren  we 
will  begin  to-morrow  night  a  protracted 
revival  meetinT  You  could  have 
knocked  me  over  with  a  corncob. 


160  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

When  we  got  home  I  says  to  him: 
'To  sustain  his  prominent  position  in 
sassiety  Pa  must  consent,  but  I  regard 
with  aversion  your  onconsideration. ' 
He  retired,  an'  me  and  Pa  was  settin' 
by  the  stove  discussin'  the  inconven 
ience  of  bein'  revived  jest  then,  when 
down  he  come  askin'  ef  he  could  have 
some  blankets.  Blankets,  mind  you! 
Now,  we  got  one  pair  that  Pa  give  me 
fur  a  Christmas  present  ten  year  ago, 
thinkin'  they  be  as  exceptionable  as 
any  other  trinket.  We  never  put  'em 
on  but  once — that  was  the  night  of  the 
blizzard.  Then  we  laid  'em  reel  light 
over  everything  else.  But  Pa  put  him 
in  them  blankets,  an'  let  him  sleep  in 
them  all  night.  Down  he  comes  to 
the  sink  in  the  mornin',  an'  there  he 
stands,  a-combin'  his  hair  with  my 
comb,  an'  a-singing'  psalms  at  the  top 
of  his  voice.  I  was  washin'.  'Its  a 
handsome  day,'  I  says  reel  pleasant, 
conflectin'  how  his  conscience  must  have 
retrograded  him  every  time  he  turned 
in  them  blankets.  'Kin  I  rense  out 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  161 

any  thin'  fur  you  ? '  I  knowed  right  well 
he'd  only  two  handkerchiefs  an'  three 
paper  collars.  'No,'  he  says,  short 
as  berry  cake  an'  stiff  as  starch.  He 
sets  down  to  the  table  an'  puts  into 
him  all  the  coffee  that  was  left,  nigh 
a  loaf  of  bread  an'  a  slab  of  cold  pork. 
Then  he  takes  his  hat.  'Where  air 
you  goin'?'  I  asks.  'To  visit  my 
flock,'  he  says.  I  never  set  eyes  on 
him  from  that  minit  to  this!" 

The  deep  depression  of  the  tone 
dismayed  Miss  Lyle.  "What  hap 
pened  him?"  she  inquired  quickly. 

Mrs.   McLelland  shook  her  head. 

"I  never  knowed  a  thing  about  it 
until  that  snub-nose  Mrs.  Stebbins 
come  a-runnin'  over.  You  know  we 
had  made  up  our  dissuasion  concernin' 
a  question  of  etiquette  after  our  fight 
with  the  billy  goat,  in  which  she  ably 
reinstated  me.  Still  I  can  never  have 
any  real  infinity  fur  a  lady  who  uses 
hog's  lard  to  make  her  bangs  stick,  an' 
put  vaniller  on  her  handkerchief.  '  Your 
preacher  is  a-stayin'  up  to  Muggsley's, ' 


1 62  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

she  says.  'He  declares  Sister  Mc- 
Lelland  insulted  him,  an'  there's  goin' 
to  be  a  investigation.'  Think  of  that, 
now,  will  you?  A  investigation  of  me! 
Me,  who  lived  in  Illinois  only  a  hun 
dred  and  twenty  mile  from  Chicago. 
Me,  whose  husband  give  that  same 
impecuniary  preacher  a  quarter  to  bring 
his  prodigy  from  lowy!  Me,  who  give 
him  all  the  potpie  he  could  master- 
cate,  an'  permitted  him  to  piece,  an' 
let  him  lie  in  blankets  that  was  fit  fur 
the  President!  'Its  more'n  a  outrage, 
Pa,'  I  says,  'it's  a  preponderance. 
An'  when  that  investigationin'  begins 
ef  they  don't  hear  from  me,  preacher, 
sweet-smellin'  Christian  an'  all,  it's  a 
pity,'  I  says  to  Pa,  'it's  a  pity!" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"He  is  rash  and  very  sudden  in  cboler." 

— Othello. 

«  OOX  come  for  you,"  Mollie   an- 
D  nounced  in  her  usual  resentful 
tone. 

' '  A  box — for  me  ?"  Ivera  stood,  her 
fur  coat  half  pulled  off,  and  looked  in 
quiringly  at  her  maid. 

"Boy  say  Mr.  Prior  send  it." 
"Oh,  yes,  I  was  expecting  it.  That 
is  all  right."  She  felt  relieved  to  con 
sider  that  Rob  was  away.  She  did 
not  attempt  to  open  the  trunk  until 
Mollie  was  asleep.  She  regarded  the 
leather  trunk  with  emotion.  The  in 
itials  "M.  M.  D."  stamped  on  one  end 
recalled  the  inscription  on  the  showy 
headstone.  With  a  poker  she  wrenched 
the  lock  open  and  threw  back  the  lid. 
The  contents  of  the  trunk  were  neatly 
arranged.  She  soon  found  what  she  had 
163 


164  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

sought — her  own  letters  and  photo 
graph  .  These  she  promptly  tossed  into 
the  fire.  Then  she  searched  for  a 
thick,  small  morocco  book.  She  found 
two.  She  recollected  that  Mark  had  sent 
her  the  diaries  he  had  kept  during  the 
first  three  years  of  their  separation. 
Then  he  had  written  that  »he  felt  con 
vinced  such  gifts  evidenced  conceit  on 
his  part,  and  that  he  would  bore  her 
with  no  more  details  of  his  uninterest 
ing  life.  Here,  then,  was  the  limning 
of  almost  two  years.  She  closed  the 
trunk,  pushed  it  into  a  corner,  and  sat 
down  to  discover,  if  possible,  some  clew 
to  the  death  or  disappearance  of  her 
lover,  either  of  which  she  persisted  in 
regarding  as  mysterious. 

The  little  room  was  warm  and  cozy. 
Without  a  mighty  wind  raged.  It  rat 
tled  every  limb  of  the  cottonwoods  that 
formed  the  break  of  the  young  orchard. 
It  shook  all  the  clumsily  constructed 
doors  and  windows.  It  puffed  the  car 
pet  into  wavy  woolen  bubbles  all  over 
the  room.  And  it  kept  the  windmill, 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  165 

prisoned  in  winter  bondage,  straining 
and  struggling  like  a  fettered  giant. 

Ivera  glanced  hastily  through  the 
diary  bearing  the  earlier  date.  The 
memoranda  were  chiefly  of  business, 
and  contained  no  hint  that  might  guide 
her  in  her  quest.  She  laid  it  down 
and  opened  the  second  book  at  ran 
dom.  She  read  a  single  line.  One 
name  caught  her*  eye.  The  writing 
was  shaky  to  illegibility.  The  line  she 
read  ran:  "That  damn  saint  of  a  Jar- 
dine  suspects  something." 

"Jardine.  Always  Jardine!"  She 
started  up  to  carry  the  book  nearer  the 
lamp,  to  read  by  better  light  the  al 
most  undecipherable  sentences  which 
preceded  and  followed  the  suggestive 
words.  The  sound  of  footsteps  ap 
proaching  the  house  startled  her.  Some 
one  was  trying  the  front  door.  Rob 
had  been  gone  two  days.  Might  it 
not  be  he? 

"Hello,  Ive!     Let  me  in." 

She  dropped  the  diary  she  held  be- 


1 66  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

side  the  other  on  the  little  table  and 
flew  to  open  the  door. 

' '  Rob,  dear.  When  you  did  not  get 
home  earlier  I  made  up  my  mind  not 
to  expect  you  until  to-morrow  night. 
Come  in.  Have  you  had  supper?  Such 
a  maniacal  wind — isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  it's  a  beastly  night." 

His  voice  sounded  odd.  His  eyes 
were  dull  and  his  face  looked  red  and 
stupid.  He  pulled  off  his  cap  and  over 
coat  and  sat  down  near  the  stove. 

"Did  you  make  a  satisfactory  ar 
rangement  with  those  grain  dealers?" 

"Very  satisfactory.  They  gave  me 
the  three  thousand  I  claimed." 

"That  is  good." 

"I  haven't  all  of  it.  I  ran  against 
some  hard  luck  down  there.  The  game 
was  a  bit  too  steep,  and  I — where  in 
thunder  did  you  get  that?" 

He  had  started  up  at  sight  of  the 
trunk. 

"Mr.   Prior  sent  it  out." 

"Who  asked  him  to  send  it  here?" 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  167 

"The  hell  you  did." 

"Robert!"  his  sister  cried.  She 
looked  at  the  flushed,  wrathful,  boyish 
face.  A  new  comprehension  darkened 
in  her  eyes. 

He  muttered  an  apology.  He  was 
conscious  of  his  own  condition.  His 
nervousness  and  irritability  were  the  in 
evitable  result  of  his  indulgence.  They 
would  wear  off  with  abstinence  as  they 
had  worn  off  before.  But  he  had  not 
reckoned  on  finding  the  trunk  of  his 
former  partner  staring  him  in  the  face. 
Opened  too,  by  Jove!  He  and  Jar- 
dine  had  once  talked  over  Dudley's 
absurd  habit  of  keeping  a  diary.  Both 
had  recollected  the  conversation  the 
night  the  office  was  burned,  when  Jar- 
dine  saved  the  trunk.  Who  could  say 
what  that  scatterbrain  had  not  put  on 
paper?  The  door  of  the  little  stove 
stood  ajar,  Lyle  could  see  the  heap  of 
charred  and  blackened  papers  within. 

"What  have  you  been  burning?" 

"My  letters."' 

"Well,  I  must  say  I  think  it  deuced 


1 08  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

bad  form,  and  not  at  all  what  I'd  have 
expected  of  you,  Ive,  to  go  prying  into 
poor  Mark's  belongings  this  way." 

She  regarded  him  steadily.  She  had 
grown  very  white  while  he  was  speak 
ing.  "I  have  merely  burned  my  let 
ters  and  my  picture.  Those  and  his 
diaries  are  all  that  I  am  interested  in. " 

"His  diaries?"  He  glanced  around 
quickly.  He  saw  the  little  leathern 
books  on  the  table.  He  picked  them 
up.  "These?"  he  queried. 

"Yes." 

"I'll  read  them  first.  I  think  that 
is  only  proper.  There  may  be  things 
in  them  Mark  would  not  like  you  to 
know. " 

He  put  the  books  in  his  breast 
pocket.  His  lips  were  "fumbling  for 
a  sort  of  smile." 

"You  are  sure  there  is  nothing  in 
them  you  would  not  like  me  to  know  ?  " 

"What  rubbish.  Forgive  me,  dear, 
but  you  are  provoking.  As  if  it  were 
not  only  the — the  honor  of  my  friend 
I  care  about.  You  are  morbid  on  this 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  169 

subject.  The  isolation  here  is  increas 
ing  your  tendency  to  brood  over  the 
death  of  your  lover.  I  think — I'm 
very  unselfish  to  admit  it — that  you 
would  be  happier  at  home  than  out  in 
this  wretched  desert." 

"Won't  you  give  me  back  those 
books,  Robert?" 

"Not,"  stubbornly,  "until  I've  read 
them." 

' '  You  are  unfair, "  she  cried,  despe 
rately.  ' '  I  have  the  first  right  to  them. 
I  shall  tell  you  now  what  I  told  Mr. 
Jardine  some  time  ago — the  reason  I 
came  west.  I  came  to  find  out  how 
Mark  Dudley  died." 

"Wh— at?"  quavered  Rob.  His 
mouth  was  twitching. 

"I  am  going  to  have  the  grave 
opened, "  she  went  on  resolutely.  ' '  I 
shall  discover  if  he  died  a  natural 
death,  or  if  he  still  lives." 

' '  You  shall  not, "  Rob  Lyle  screamed 
in  a  voice  of  terror.  "I'll  never  allow 
it.  You  must  not  disgrace  me  by 
doing  anything  of  the  sort."  She  was 


17°  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

thunderstruck  by  his  dismay.  He  was 
frantic  with  fear.  How  comparatively 
calm  Jardine  had  been  when  she  had 
mentioned  her  suspicions  to  him!  And 
yet  it  was  Jardine,  she  felt  assured,  who 
had  played  the  principal  part  in  the 
tragedy  connected  with  the  death  or 
disappearance  of  her  lover. 

' '  Disgrace  you ! "  she  said,  shrinking  a 
little  from  his  face,  his  expression,  his 
breath.  She  passed  into  her  own  room, 
and  closed  and  locked  the  door.  There 
was  just  a  dim,  gray  glimmer  in  the 
outer  world  when  she  bent  over  Mollie 
and  gently  shook  her. 

' '  Mollie— Mollie,  wake.    Get  up ! " 

Mollie  sleepily  shrugged  the  bed 
clothes  higher  around  her  shoulders. 

' '  So  soon  ? "  she  murmured. 

"Yes,  at  once,  Mollie." 

When  the  girl  appeared  in  the 
little  kitchen  she  saw  that  the  fire  was 
burning,  and  that  breakfast  was  on  the 
table.  She  ate,  making  no  comment. 
Ivera  laid  a  handful  of  silver  by  her 
plate. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  1 71 

"Get  your  clothes  together,  Mollie, 
I  am  sending  you  home.  I  shall  not 
need  you  any  more.  I  am  paying  you 
extra  because  I  have  not  given  you 
notice."  Mollie  carefully  counted  over 
the  money.  It  paid  for  two  weeks  she 
had  not  served. 

"You  send  me  away — why?  I  do 
work  right.  You  send  me  because  I 
say  that  night — ?" 

' '  No — no.  Not  because  of  anything 
you  said,  Mollie.  You  have  done  the 
work  very  nicely  indeed.  But  I  am 
not  going  to  keep  house  any  longer. 
..Mister  Rob  will  get  on  as  he  did  before  I 
came.  That  is  all.  I  am  not  angry 
or  annoyed  with  you.  Good-bye." 

But  when  Mollie  had  collected  her 
scant  belongings  she  still  lingered  on 
the  doorstep.  In  her  short  skirt  and 
little  tight  jacket,  her  face  fresh,  rosy, 
drowsy-eyed,  the  blending  of  lamplight 
and  dawn  lending  her  flattering  illumi 
nation,  she  looked  more  childish  than 
ever.  But  she  was  evidently  ill  at 
ease.  She  stared  down  at  the  toe  of 


172  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

her  clumsy  shoe.  She  punched  holes 
with  her  finger  in  the  paper  covering 
the  bundle  she  held.  Once  she  quickly 
lifted  her  lashes,  and  as  hurriedly  they 
drooped  again.  Then  she  moved  a 
step  inward,  and  stood — her  glistening 
white  teeth  sunk  in  her  full  red  under- 
lip,  awkward  but  unembarrassed,  un 
decided  but  imperturbable. 

Ivera,  moving  swiftly  and  lightly 
around  the  kitchen,  washing  up  the 
dishes,  putting  them  away,  arranging 
a  clean  tablecloth,  glanced  toward  the 
motionless  figure.  "Well,"  she  asked 
kindly,  "what  is  it,  Mollie ?"  The  girl 
dropped  her  bundle  —  turned.  She 
made  a  rush  in  the  direction  of  her 
young  mistress.  She  flung  her  arms 
around  her.  She  burst  out  crying. 

"I  want  kiss  you — I  do  want  kiss 
you.  I  no  hate  you  like  I  say. 
You  too  good.  I  say  that  lie  because 
I  get  mad — mad — when  I  think  him 
love  you.  I  did  not  want  that  him 
should  love  you  ever — ever — only  me;" 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  173 

and  she  pressed  her  lips  to  the  cheek 
near  her  own. 

Miss  Lyle  disengaged  herself. 

' '  Whom  did  you  wish  should  not  love 
me,  Mollie?" 

But  Mollie  only  stood  and  stared  at 
her,  her  round  eyes  dark  with  doubt. 
' '  Do  you  mean — "  Ivera  broke  off — 
was  silent.  Suddenly  she  brought  the 
question  out  with  a  wrench,  "Do  you 
mean  Mr.  Jardine?"  Mollie  looked  puz 
zled.  All  at  once  a  dazzling  smile  irradi 
ated  her  heavy  features.  She  nodded 
emphatically  and  laughed,  although  the 
tears  were  still  bright  on  her  lashes. 

"Yes — yes — him,  of  course — Mr. 
Jardine. "  She  smiled  all  the  way  home. 
The  consciousness  of  a  good  and  clever 
act  sustained  her.  Then  there  was 
the  prospective  pleasure  of  playing  with 
the  pretty  plate  and  handles,  and  ex 
hibiting  them  to  those  who,  unfortu 
nately,  could  not  boast  the  possession 
of  such  trophies.  She  found  the  an 
ticipation  delightful. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

' '  And  as  we  walk  along  I  dare  be  bold." 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

HPHE  town  looked  insignificant  and 
1  straggling,  and  glaringly  new  when 
Ivera  entered  it  that  day.  The  sun 
shone,  but  a  bitter  wind — the  everlast 
ing  wind  of  the  plains — was  blowing. 

Mrs.  McLelland,  massive  and  ma 
jestic,  stood  at  her  back  door.  She 
wore  a  sunbonnet,  regardless  of  the 
season,  and  a  little  red  shawl  fluttered 
back  from  her  heavy  shoulders.  The 
wind  blew  about  her  cotton  gown,  re 
vealing  her  huge  but  not  ungainly  pro 
portions.  On  her  feet  were  white  hose 
and  green  carpet  slippers. 

''Good  morning,  Mrs.  McLelland!" 
said  Miss  Lyle. 

The  old  lady  responded  with  a  short 
nod.  "Mornin'.  Now,  what  I  want 
to  know  is  this:  Did  you  see  a  hen 
174 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  175 

an'  three  chickings  as  you  come  into 
town?" 

"A  hen?     And  three  chickens?" 

"That's  it.  Pa,  he  paid  a  nickel 
apiece  fur  the  chickings,  an'  I  wouldn't 
be  su'prised  ef  he  gave  fifteen  cents  fur 
the  old  hen.  An'  all  on  them  has  gone 
an'  lost  theirselves.  I  seen  the  woman 
yistiday  Pa  bought  'em  of.  She's  let- 
tin'  us  have  all  the  fowls  we  want, 
seein'  we  ain't  got  the  farm  any  more, 
by  way  of  pay  on  a  coffing  fur  her 
mother-in-law.  But  I  doubt  ef  the  old 
lady  is  a-goin'  to  die.  She  comes  of 
the  Briggs  stock,  an'  they  was  allus 
powerful  contrairy,  every-one  on  'em." 

"But, "gasped  Ivera,  "paying  for — 
for  that — before  the  person  is  dead!" 

"Oh,  she's  a  mighty  forehanded 
woman.  She  gits  a  new  hat  every 
year — a  Easter  hat.  She  buys  it  along 
in  fall  when  the  flowers  an'  straw  an' 
such  is  cheap.  Then  she  gits  it  out 
an'  wears  it  in  spring  before  the  shops 
here  has  got  a  bit  of  goods  from  St. 
Joe  or  Kansas  City.  She  leads  the 


176  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

fashions  —  she  do!  She's  forehanded 
all  right.  When  her  sister's  husband 
lay  sick,  an'  Eldridge  said  as  how  he 
couldn't  get  well,  she  yanked  the  sheets 
off  n  his  bed  reel  quick.  '  Ef  that's  so, ' 
she  says,  'and  I  expect  you're  right, 
I  got  to  git  these  rensed  out  now  so 
they'll  be  ready  fur  the  berryin',  seem' 
they're  my  best  pair.'" 

"The  invalid  should  have  been  com 
plimented,"  Ivera  ventured  softly. 

"I  don't  know  as  he  was." 

Mrs.  McLelland's  visitor  experienced 
a  hysterical  desire  to  laugh.  Was 
there  no  spiritual  ozone  in  all  the  prairie 
atmosphere?  The  air  seemed  to  reek 
of  mortality.  Her  own  tragic  quest, 
the  ghastly  task  she  must  instigate, 
the  conversation  of  this  prosperous  and 
avaricious  old  woman  —  all  were  of 
death. 

' '  I  wonder, "  the  girl  hazarded,  with 
a  sort  of  defiant  flippancy,  ' '  if  she  was 
particular  to  see  the  sheets  were  well 
aired. " 

Mrs.  McLelland  regarded  her  visitor 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  177 

doubtfully  a  moment.  The  she  laughed 
uproariously,  and  brought  one  up 
lifted  hand  down  with  force  on  the 
palm  of  the  other. 

"Land's  sake!  Fur  fear  he  might 
git  cold!  That's  a  good  one.  I  must 
tell  Pa.  Not  that  Pa's  in  the  humor 
to  face  me  now,  seein'  he's  been  ac- 
quisitin'  of  fowls  that  has  been  brung 
up  like  gypsies.  I  said  yistiday  to  that 
woman  who's  so  forehanded:  'How 
did  that  black  hen  look  like  what  you 
sold  Pa?'  An'  she  reciprocates:  'It 
warn't  a  black  hen.  It  were  brown,  an' 
had  a  white  collar. '  I  told  her  I  wouldn't 
have  forgotten  it  ef  I  seen  it,  but  Pa 
brought  them  onreliable  fowls  up  after 
I'd  retired.  I  never  forget  the  look 
of  a  hen  I  seen  onct — not  ever  in  my 
life." 

"Mrs.  McLelland,  may  I  come  to 
board  with  you  for  a  while?" 

"Eh?     Didn't  Rob  git  back?" 

"Yes." 

"Full?" 

Miss  Lyle's  dark  blue  eyes  blazed. 

12 


178  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

' '  You  may  not  ask  me  such  questions 
or  infer  anything  of  the  sort,  Mrs.  Mc- 
Lelland!" 

"Lordy,  I  won't.  What's  the  use 
of  gettin'  huffy  about  a  few  glasses, 
more  or  less?  I  didn't  think  on  your 
bein'  thin  skinned,  but  most  city  folks 
is,  I  guess.  Why,  there  was  a  city 
woman  I  knowed  onct — the  same  that 
kep'  talkin'  about  the  view  when  my 
turkeys  was  a-comin'  up  the  yard — an' 
she  got  real  riled  'cause  I  said  her 
daughter  looked  like  she  come  of  folks 
that  was  subject  to  epileptic  fits." 

Ivera  laughed.  "How  absurd!"  she 
said. 

"Oh,  but  she  did  look  thataway," 
Mrs.  McLelland  insisted,  gravely. 

' '  I  mean  how  absurd  of  her  mother 
to  resent  such  a  remark." 

' '  Wan't  it,  though  ?"  warmly.  ' '  Now, 
what  are  you  willin'  to  pay  fur  board?" 

"Oh,  whatever  you  say.  That 
doesn't  matter." 

"Would  three  dollars  a  week  be 
about  right?" 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  179 

''Oh,  five  at  least." 

' '  No — three.  We  ain't  Cresotes,  as 
I  told  you,  but  it  wouldn't  be  treatin' 
you  with  proper  unanimity  to  take  a 
cent  more'n  that.  You  can't  eat  more'n 
a  dollar  an'  a  half's  worth  a  week  I  bet, 
if  you  was  to  try.  That  is  to  say," 
she  ended  doubtfully,  "judgin'  by  the 
looks  of  you." 

' '  May  I  have  a  cup  of  tea  now,  Mrs. 
McLelland?" 

' '  What  ?  Ain't  you  had  any  break 
fast?  An'  it  nigh  onto  ten  o'clock!" 

1 '  I  did  not  care  for  any  when  I  left. 
And — and  I  walked  in." 

' '  Sakes  alive,  come  in  quick,  an'  set 
down!  You're  whiter'n  my  bleached 
tablecloth.  Wait!  Lay  down  on  this 
sofy  a  bit.  It's  too  narrer  fur  me,  but 
I  guess  you  can  fit  onto  it.  What  took 
Rob  to  Omaha,  anyhow?" 

"He  had  trouble  with  a  grain  firm 
there  about  some  corn  that  had  been 
shipped." 

Mrs.  McLelland  was  lumbering  around, 
brewing  the  tea  and  placing  eatables  on 


180  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

the  little  table  that  was  pushed  up 
against  the  wall.  "Them  lads  allus 
has  lots  of  business  to  take  'em  off," 
she  avowed,  with  a  knowing  smile. 
' '  They  got  to  git  money,  an'  when 
they  git  it  there's  some  of  it  disap 
pears  mighty  quick  I  kin  tell  you.  I 
suppose  Prior'll  be  the  next  to  go  galla- 
vantin'.  It's  most  time  fur  him  to  git 
that  insurance  money." 

"What  insurance  money?"  Miss  Lyle 
asked,  idly.  She  was  lying  on  the  little 
hard  sofa,  watching  the  movements  of 
her  hostess.  She  was  very  tired.  The 
warmth  of  the  room  was  pleasant,  the 
rest  refreshing. 

"The  insurance  he's  goin'  to  git  on 
the  life  of  Mark  Dudley.  Do  you  like 
your  tea  biled  more'n  ten  minutes?" 

' '  On  the  life — "  Ivera  began  faintly, 
and  stopped.  She  was  sitting  straight 
up  on  the  adamantine  lounge,  her 
startled  gaze  fixed  on  the  face  of  the 
undertaker's  wife. 

"Yes.  Didn't  Rob  tell  you  Prior 
has  a  insurance  of  five  thousand  dol- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  l8l 

lars  comin'  to  him  on  the  life  of  his 
partner?  Oh,  it's  all  fair  enough,  fur's 
I  see.  Dudley  suspicioned,  I  bet,  he 
couldn't  live  long  at  the  rate  he  was 
a-goin'  it.  Prior  had  helped  him  out 
of  lots  of  his  scrapes.  Prior  didn't  git 
into  scrapes  himself.  He  ain't  no  hand 
fur  hosses,  or  women,  or  whisky.  He 
only  cares  fur  money,  an'  fur  them  ex 
periments  he's  allus  at — Old  Nick  ex 
periments  I  call  'em.  So  he  stood  by 
Dudley  so  often  't  was  only  right  Mark 
should  git  out  insurance  fur  him.  It's 
as  broad  as  it's  long  to  my  notion. 
Here,  drink  your  tea." 

Miss  Lyle  found  it  difficult  to  swal 
low  the  bitter  green  decoction  set  be 
fore  her. 

Prior  then  was  to  benefit  by  Mark 
Dudley's  death!  Somehow  she  had 
not  associated  him  with  evil  intention 
or  act.  How  many  were  implicated  in 
the  tragedy  she  felt  positive  had  oc 
curred?  She  was  deeply  mystified — 
bewildered. 

"You  ain't  got  any  appetite,"  Mrs. 


1 82  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

McLelland  remarked.  "Well,  I  ain't 
got  much  myself  since  I  received  that 
turn  about  the  preacher.  Then  it's 
very  discommodin'  to  have  a  neighbor 
that  don't  approximate  genteel  con 
duct.  Now,  that  little  black-eyed  Mis' 
Stebbins  come  a-dancin'  in  here  last 
Sunday.  She  had  enough  vaniller  on 
her  handkerchief  to  scent  a  whole  ice 
cream  sociable.  She  come  bouncin'  in 
thisaway!"  Here  Mrs.  McLelland  la 
boriously  rose  and  treated  her  guest  to 
a  ponderous  and  practical  illustration  of 
Mrs.  Stebbins'  agility.  "'I  hear  there's 
to  be  immersionin'  in  the  crik,'  I  says 
to  her,  '  an'  that  you're  goin'  to  become 
a  Christian.  Have  you  the  proper 
sperit?'  She  tosses  her  head  an'  she 
laughs — this  away !  Ha — Ha — Ha !  an' 
she  says:  'I'm  a-goin'  to  get  a  bath. 
My  dress  is  perfeckly  bewitchin'.  I  guess 
the  sperit  Tom  got  fur  me  to  take 
after  the  duckin'  is  good.  'Twas  the 
best  they  had  in  the  drug  store.'  'The 
only  speritool  aid  you'll  need,  onless 
you  git  a  chill,  is  grace,'  I  restricted 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  183 

her.  '  Look  at  Regina  Dickson.  They 
had  to  break  the  ice  to  dip  her,  an' 
she  never  as  much  as  sneezed  after. 
She  said  as  how  the  Lord  went  down 
with  her.'  That  little  snub -nose  thing, 
she  bust  out  laughin'  in  my  face. 
'  Mebbe  he  did, '  she  says,  '  but  it  was 
Hank  Brooks  come  up  with  her!'  You 
see  Regina  she  slipped  under  the  ice, 
an'  was  most  drowned." 

' '  Yes, "  murmured  Ivera  absently. 

"There's  Pa  now,"  said  Mrs.  Mc- 
Lelland,  as  a  dragging  step  sounded 
without.  "Business  is  slack.  I  can 
allus  tell  by  the  way  he  walks.  Pa's 
a  bit  lame,  an'  it  seems  like  when  trade 
is  dull  he  limps  more'n  common.  Pa," 
addressing  the  old  man  who  entered, 
' '  is  that  Harper  woman  dead  yet  ?  She 
ain't,  I  s'pose,"  as  Mr.  McLelland 
shook  his  head  mournfully. 

' '  They  do  -say  the  doctor  gives  hopes 
of  her.  He's  a  new  doctor  over  from 
the  county  seat.  He's  a  queer  man,  I 
understand — allus  dreadful  afraid  he'll 
lose  a  case." 


184  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Oh,  Pa!"  There  was  deprecation 
and  sympathy  in  the  exclamation. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  McLelland?" 
said  Ivera. 

' '  It's  Miss  Lyle.  Glad  to  see  you, 
ma'm." 

' '  Miss  Lyle's  goin'  to  board  with  us 
a  spell,  Pa.  Wants  to  see  some  city 
life,  I  expostulate."  the  old  lady  said, 
laughing  and  winking. 

Mr.  McLelland  was  a  thin,  white- 
haired,  white-bearded,  rosy-cheeked  old 
man.  When  a  simple  tiller  of  the  soil 
his  manner  had  been  bluff  and  genial. 
Since  assuming  the  important  position 
of  undertaker  a  change  had  come  over 
him.  His  speech  now  indicated  a  cal 
culating  reserve,  and  from  his  mild 
blue  eye  a  stern  resentment  gleamed 
on  those  too  discouragingly  robust  to 
suggest  near  need  of  his  services. 

"You're  from  Chicago,  Miss  Lyle. 
Great  place,  Chicago." 

"You  are  familiar  with  the  city?" 

' '  Oh,  yes.  I  know  all  about  Chicago. 
I've  been  there.  I  went  there  about 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  185 

five  year  ago  with  hawgs.  I  seen  the 
river,  an'  the  street  cars,  an'  a  political 
parade.  I  started  out  to  see  the  lake, 
but  it  was  a  good  bit  from  the  depot 
— seemed  a  good  bit  walkin'  along  in 
the  shade  of  them  big  buildin's.  So  I 
let  the  lake  slide.  I  made  up  my  mind 
it  would  be  there  next  trip." 

"How  long  were  you  in  the  city?" 
"Oh,  a  good  while — nigh  onto  two 
days  all  told.  I  didn't  calculate  to  stay 
more'n  a  hour  or  so,  but  there  was 
such  a  heap  to  see  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  take  the  whole  show  in.  What's 
the  matter,  Ma  ?"  For  Mrs.  McLelland, 
fishing  her  teeth  out  of  the  water 
bucket  with  one  hand,  was  making  en 
ergetic  motions  behind  her  back  with 
the  other.  She  floundered  around, 
wiping  her  wet  hand  on  her  apron. 

"It's  your  progenitor,  Pa.  I  seen 
him  a-comin'  just  now  through  the  slats 
of  the  cellar  winder.  Don't  ask  him 
to  dinner,  mind.  There  ain't  nothin' 
but  hard  biled  eggs,  an'  cheese,  an' 


1 86  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

mebbe  as  much  fried  potatoes — ef  I  git 
time  to  fry  'em — as  would  blind  you." 

Ivera  rose  from  the  table.  Her  color 
had  come  back.  Her  eyes  were  alight 
with  amusement. 

"Who  is  he?"  she  asked. 

"Sam  Mahasby,  the  man  I  bought 
out, "  explained  Mr.  McLelland.  ' '  How 
do,  Sam?" 

The  man  to  whose  business  Mr.  Mc 
Lelland  had  succeeded  was  fat  and 
florid.  His  hirsute  appendages  were 
sparse  and  straggly.  He  was  drawl 
ing  of  speech,  roving  of  eye,  and  idiotic 
ally  amiable.  He  was  duly  presented 
to  Miss  Lyle.  Miss  Lyle  talked  to 
him.  Indeed,  she  developed  such  un 
suspected  conversational  ability,  such 
wit,  such  fascination,  that  her  host — 
forgetting  the  disappointing  improve 
ment  in  the  condition  of  Mrs.  Harper — 
sat  and  chuckled  behind  his  white 
beard,  and  his  thrifty  wife  poured  sor 
ghum  instead  of  vinegar  on  the  cold 
slaw  she  was  preparing,  and  sat  down 
in  a  tremor  of  helpless  consternation 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  187 

when  she  perceived  her  mistake.  Mr. 
Mahasby  beamed,  and  fidgeted,  and 
laughed  loudly,  and  stole  a  disturbed 
glance  at  his  own  reflection  in  the  tin 
boiler  on  the  stove,  and  decided  to  get 
a  shave  before  he  was  a  day  older, 
and  wished  his  boots  were  polished, 
and  withal,  in  view  of  the  apparent  ad 
miration  of  the  young  lady  from  the 
East,  laid  some  flattering  unction  to  his 
soul  after  the  manner  of  his  suscept 
ible  sex.  When  he  finally  dragged  his 
reluctant  feet  to  the  threshold,  remark 
ing  that  he  had  a  good  four  mile 
straight  east  to  walk  home,  Miss  Lyle 
decided  that  she  would  feel  better  for 
a  saunter,  and  would  go  with  Mr.  Ma 
hasby  as  far  as  the  bluffs. 

' '  Did  you  ever  see  the  beat  of  that, 
Pa?"  gasped  Mrs.  McLelland.  But 
Pa  had  suddenly  become  misanthropic. 
4 '  You  can't  never  trust  a  woman  to  do 
what  she's  expected  to, "  he  returned, 
gloomily.  "I  wonder  how  Mis'  Har 
per  is  gittin'  along. " 

Meanwhile    Ivera    stepped    daintily 


1 88  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

along  beside  the  burly  ex-undertaker. 
He  was  talking.  "Eldridge  doctored 
him.  I  didn't  know  anything  about 
the  matter  until  Prior  called  me  up 
about  two  in  the  morning,  and  told  me 
to  bring  a  coffin  to  the  grain  office  right 
off.  I  asked  what  price.  He  swore 
at  me.  He  said:  'Hang  the  price!' — 
only  it  wasn't  hang  he  said.  I  went 
down  there.  Mr.  Dudley  lay  on  the 
lounge.  I  took  his  measurements.  Then 
I  went  away.  When  I  come  back 
about  five  Mr.  Prior  and  I  put  him  in — 
the  body,  I  mean.  I  went  home  to 
get  a  cup  of  coffee.  When  I  come  back 
Jardine  and  your  brother  was  there 
with  Prior.  They  berrid  young  Dudley 
over  on  the  hill  in  Kansas.  That's  all 
I  know  about  it.  Was  you  acquainted 
with  him?" 

' '  Yes.  It  is  growing  colder,  I  think. 
Good-bye,  Mr.  Mahasby. "  She  turned 
to  go  back  to  town.  Mahasby  stopped 
her. 

"Would  you  have  any  objection," 
he  asked,  "to  go  buggy  riding  with 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  189 

me?  I'd  like  awful  well  to  take  you 
to  the  Litterary." 

' '  Oh,  thank  you,  no!  It  is  very  kind 
of  you  to  think  of  it.  But  I  couldn't. 
I  don't  go — anywhere." 

"We— 11!"  He  looked  at  her  ad 
miringly.  ' '  You  ain't  got  to,  of  course. 
But  I  never  seen  a  lady  I'd  like  so  well 
to  keep  company  with." 

"I  am  sorry!" 

"So'm  I."  He  stood  kicking  the  toe 
of  one  shoe  against  the  heel  of  the 
other.  "I  guess  I'll  have  to  take  up 
with  Melinda  Carberry.  She's  nice,  but 
she  ain't  stylish.  I  like  ladies  I  keep 
company  with  to  be  stylish.  Well,  so 
long!" 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Mahasby!" 

She  went  back  to  McLelland's.  Rob 
was  waiting  for  her. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  I  find  myself  a  traitor  with  the  rest." 

— King  Richard  II. 

HE  came  quickly  to  meet  her.  She 
noticed  that  he  looked  pale  and 
agitated. 

"See  here,  Ive,  I  call  this  a  pretty 
mean  way  to  treat  a  fellow.  I  had 
no  idea  you  were  going  to  desert  me 
because  I  spoke  hastily  last  night.  I 
was — nervous.  I  know  I  said  things  I 
shouldn't.  You'll  come  back  with  me, 
won't  you?" 

"No,  wait  a  minute,  Rob.  I'm  not 
saying  this  because  I  am  offended  or 
resentful.  I  determined  to  come  and 
stay  in  town  until  all  these  harassing 
doubts  concerning  the  fate  of  Marik 
were  settled.  These  doubts  become 
more  complex,  and  press  more  heavily- 
all  the  time.  I  am  in  a  better  posi 
tion  here  to  learn  what  I  must  know." 
190 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  IQI 

"What,"  he  asked  roughly,  "put 
the  idea  in  your  head  that  there  was 
anything  wrong?" 

' '  If  I  were  to  tell  you,  you  would  say 
a  dream.  Whether  it  was  indeed  a 
dream  or  a  vision,  or  a  telepathic  sum 
mons  I  don't  know — I  never  may  know. 
Whatever  it  was — it  brought  me  here. " 

He  laughed  grimly.  "And  I  flat 
tered  myself  you  had  come  to  visit 
me." 

"You  may  remember  I  told  you  the 
morning  after  I  arrived  that  I  wished 
to  come  on  account  of  Mark's  death." 

' '  I  remember.  But  I  could  not  con 
nect  your  journey  with  an  attempt  so 
so — unconventional. " 

"Thank  you.  Unconventional  is 
really  a  milder  word  than  I  have  any 
right  to  expect." 

' '  You  have  not  discovered  anything  to 
justify  your  extraordinary  suspicions?" 
He  was  looking  searchingly  down  upon 
her. 

' ( I  have  learned  enough  to  make  me 
resolute  enough  to  learn  more." 


192  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

' '  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  I  can  say 
that  will  induce  you  to  give  up  this 
damned  quixotic  business?" 

' '  Nothing.  I  must  know  the  truth  in 
this  matter  as  soon  as  may  be.  After 
ward,  Rob, "  with  a  glimmer  of  a  smile, 
"  I'll  go  back  and  keep  house  for  you  if 
you  want  me." 

' '  I  shan't  want  you, "  he  flung  back 
hotly,  ' '  if  you  are  bound  to  make  our 
name  common  talk  for  every  cursed 
corn-shucker  in  the  country ! " 

Involuntarily,  she  took  a  step  back 
ward.  Then  she  said  with  gentleness: 
' '  Oh,  there  is  no  fear  of  that.  Good 
bye  for  the  present,  Rob. "  She  turned 
toward  McLelland's. 

' '  Good-bye,  forever,  as  far  as  I  care, " 
Rob  Lyle  muttered  angrily.  He  swung 
off  down  the  street  and  went  into  the 
grain  office.  It  was  untenanted.  He 
passed  into  the  small  room  in  the  rear. 
A  cot  bed  stood  in  one  corner.  Other 
wise  the  place  was  arranged  as  a  rude 
sort  of  laboratory.  Prior,  fitting  a  wire 
into  a  hollow  glass  tube,  looked  up 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  193 

angrily  as  Lyle  dashed  in.  He  con 
doned  his  scowl  by  a  nod,  when  he  saw 
who  it  was. 

' '  Come  in,  Rob.  Shut  the  door.  I've 
been  wanting  to  see  you." 

"You  knew  where  to  find  me." 

"I  got  a  check  from  the  insurance 
company  yesterday,"  Prior  remarked. 

"Keep  it!"  Rob  advised,  briefly. 

Prior  laid  down  the  wire  he  had  been 
manipulating,  and  took  his  thin  knee 
into  the  clasp  of  his  bony  hands.  ' '  You 
don't  want  any  of  it?" 

"Not  a  red." 

"You  went  into  the  deal,"  Prior  re 
minded  him,  "exactly  on  the  same 
ground  I  did." 

"Not  by  a  damn  sight,  I  didn't!" 
Lyle  corrected  him.  "  I  went  in  on  the  « 
same  ground  poor  Mark  did.  We  both 
were  your  dupes.  He  pays  a  higher 
penalty  than  I — but  mine  is  severe 
enough,  God  knows !  How  could  we 
guess  at  the  risks  you  were  willing  to 
run — at  the  extent  of  your  infernal 


IQ4  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

schemes  ?  I  tell  you  what,  Prior,  I  feel 
like  a  murderer  every  day  I  live." 

He  was  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  cot, 
his  soft  felt  hat  twisted  between  his  fin 
gers,  his  attitude  and  expression  indic 
ative  of  profound  depression.  Prior 
grinned  across  at  him. 

' '  Oh,  I  wouldn't  feel  that  way  about 
it!" 

'" Wouldn't!"  jeered  the  boy  miser 
ably.  ' '  You  couldn't ! "  Prior  looked  at 
him  keenly.  ' '  There's  a  revival  in  town. 
Have  you  been  getting  religion  ?  " 

"Getting  nothing." 

' '  Then  you'd  better  change  your  mind 
and  take  a  couple  of  thousand,"  Prior 
facetiously  suggested. 

Lyle  pulled  his  hat  into  shape.  ' '  Stick 
to  your  blood  money,"  he  advised, 
moodily. 

"Blood  money?   Man,  it  isn't  that!" 

Lyle  kicked  the  door  shut  as  some 
men  came  into  the  office,  and  began  to 
talk  about  the  advance  on  corn.  ' '  No  " 
he  said,  ' '  it's  worse  by  a  bucketful. " 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  IQ5 

There  was  a  silence.  Then  Prior 
asked :  ' '  See  here,  what's  got  into  you  ?  " 

"Decency  maybe." 

' '  Has  your  sister  been  prodding  your 
conscience  on  this  subject?"  Rob  stood 
up  and  walked  over  to  Prior.  Lyle  was 
slenderly  built,  but  he  was  athletic  and 
had  well-trained  muscles.  At  least 
Prior  thought  so,  after  Rob  had  taken 
him  up,  and  shaken  him,  and  set  him 
down  again.  In  that  space  the  walls 
rocked  and  closed  in  around  him. 

"We  won't  talk  about  my  sister," 
Rob  decided. 

He  went  out  into  the  office  and  ex 
amined  the  books,  while  Prior  got  back 
his  breath  and  lost  some  of  his  color. 
Jennings  waddled  in.  He  was  in  ranch 
costume — at  least  in  the  kind  of  a  cos 
tume  London  tailors  deem  adapted  to 
life  on  the  plains.  His  ocher-hued  cor 
duroys  tightly  covered  his  stout  legs. 
His  short  coat  was  trimly  belted.  His 
large  felt  hat  was  adorned  with  gold 
braid  and  a  gold  buckle.  His  high  boots 


196  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

were  of  color  and  texture  foreign  to  any 
ever  seen  in  the  West. 

' '  Well  met !  "  he  cried  cordially.  ' '  I 
intended  going  out  to  call  on  Miss  Lyle 
to-night.  May  I  trouble  you  to  mention 
the  fact  that  I  am  coming?" 

' '  She  is  visiting  in  town — at  McLel- 
land's." 

' '  The  undertaker's  ?  Dear  me !  There 
are  no  social  distinctions  in  this  country, 
are  there?  Absolutely  none.  Well, 
I  shall  call." 

Call  he  did  that  very  night.  He  was 
fluent,  rosy,  friendly,  impressionable, 
and  arrayed  as  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
never  remotely  dreamed  of  being  ap 
pareled. 

After  that  his  visits  were  frequent. 
At  first  Ivera  enjoyed  them,  but  as  his 
hope  became  evident  to  her,  she  wished 
devoutly  that  he  could  be  banished,  with 
out  an  actual  edict.  One  evening  she 
sat  knitting  a  scarf  for  Mrs.,  McLelland. 
Jennings,  in  an  optimistic  ecstasy, 
watched  her.  The  best  room  was  duly 
and  dimly  illumined  by  a  kerosene 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  197 

lamp,  that  had  red  flannel  in  its  glass 
bowl,  and  rested  on  a  crocheted  mat 
of  colored  wools.  The  room,  with  its 
horsehair  furniture  and  ingrain  carpet, 
was  trim,  clean,  comfortless.  The  only 
decorations  were  tidies — "drapes"  the 
Bubbleites  called  them.  They  hung  on 
chair  backs,  and  enfolded  the  family 
Bible,  and  swayed  in  limp  elegance  from 
the  frame  of  the  solitary  picture,  and 
dangled  from  the  rigid  sofa  pillows. 
"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Jennings,  as  if  con 
tinuing  a  conversation,  "there  are  no 
end  of  lovely  girls  in  England." 

"So  I  understand,"  returned  Miss 
Lyle  demurely. 

"You've  never  been  abroad?" 

"Not  since  I  was  a  child." 

"That,"  promptly  and  adroitly, 
"must  have  been  only  yesterday." 

"Oh,  it  is  several  years  back,  I  as 
sure  you.  I  was  three  years  at  school  in 
Belgium." 

' '  But  you  don't  know  old  England  ? " 

"Very  slightly." 

' '  I  should  like  to  show  it  you — Lon- 


1 98  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

don,  and  all  the  best  of  it,  you  know. " 

"Including  the  lovely  girls?"  The 
needles  glittered  in  her  slim,  flying  rin 
gers. 

"There's  not  one  of  them,"  ardently, 
"who  could  hold  a  candle  to  you  —  not 
one." 

Miss  Lyle's  dark  lashes  lifted.  She 
flashed  him  a  glance  of  sweet  incre 
dulity.  "You  flatterer!  she  murmured. 
"Oh,  indeed,  no!"  Jennings  cried.  He 
pushed  his  chair  farther  away  from  the 
stove,  and  mopped  his  glowing  forehead 
with  a  huge  square  of  monogramed 
cambric.  "To  be  exact,  I  have  never 
seen  any  lady  who  could  be  compared 
to  you — not  even  the  Queen  of  Eng 
land!" 

There!  The  treasonable  truth  was 
out! 

"Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!"  cried  Ivera 
Lyle.  She  laughed  delightedly.  "I 
should  think  not!" 

' '  No, "  Jennings  gravely  insisted,  ' '  I 
wouldn't  mention  Her  Majesty  in  the 
same  breath  with  you." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  1 99 

"Mr,  Jennings!" 

The  tone  of  reproof  entranced  him. 

1 '  I  know  it  isn't  exactly  right  for  me 
to  speak  in  this  way — and  I've  always 
been  a  loyal  subject,  Miss  Lyle.  But 
I  can't  think  it  is  er — er — wicked  in 
this  case,  to  transfer  allegiance  from 
one  sovereign  to  another!" 

Across  the  mesh  of  black  wool  she 
held  Miss  Lyle  gazed  at  him  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

"You  have  certainly  kissed  the  blar 
ney  stone,  Mr.  Jennings ! " 

' '  No, "  Jennings  contradicted  serious 
ly,  "I  didn't,  although  when  I  was  in 
Ireland  I  visited  the  spot  with  that  in 
tention.  But  I  found  to  do  so  I  would 
be  obliged  to  allow  myself  to  be  sus 
pended  in  mid-air  by  the  heels.  I 
couldn't — oh — I  really  couldn't,  you 
know,  consent  to  appear  in  such  an — 
an  undignified  position."  The  thought 
of  Mr.  Jennings  frantically  acquiring 
sweetness  of  tongue  in  the  attitude  men 
tioned  sent  Miss  Lyle  into  a  fit  of  laugh 
ter  that  she  struggled  vainly  to  control. 


200  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Mr.  Jennings  smiled  broadly  in  sym 
pathy,  and  congratulated  himself  on  his 
powers  of  entertaining. 

' '  Of  course, "  he  said,  reverting  to  the 
question  of  his  preference  for  Ivera, 
"Her  Majesty  in  one  way  suffers  in 
comparison  to  you.  She — " 

' '  Only, "  with  an  innocent  glance,  ( '  in 
one  way?" 

Jennings  squirmed  on  his  slippery 
seat.  "Well, — er — there  are  other — 
differences.  What  I  was  about  to  men 
tion  was  the  matter  of  age.  Her  Maj 
esty  is  older,  you  know." 

' '  Oh,  not  so  much, "  Miss  Lyle  an 
swered,  her  eyes  bent  on  her  work, 
"only  about  half  a  century  or  more." 

"That's  so!"  he  assented,  brighten 
ing.  "Sometimes  half  a  century  is 
quite  a  good  while,  and  then  again  it 
isn't.  I  can't  fancy  a  fellow  rinding  it 
long  if, "  very  valiantly  indeed,  ' '  he  had 
the  beatitude  of  spending  it  with  you ! " 

The  needles  in  Miss  Lyle's  white  rin 
gers  interlaced  with  wonderful  quick- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  2OI 

ness.  ' '  Oh,  one  would  never  be  blessed 
in  my  society,  Mr.  Jennings!" 

"I'm  sure  I  should  be,"  protested 
Peter.  He  furtively  loosened  his  neck 
tie,  and  flapped  his  handkerchief  in  his 
shining  face.  He  felt  that  he  was  get 
ting  on  famously. 

' '  That, "  Miss  Lyle  said  severely,  ' '  is 
because  you  have  no  idea  what  a  ter 
magant  I  am." 

1 '  I  like  to  be  abused, "  avowed  Peter, 
humbly. 

The  dimples  deepened  in  the  pink 
velvet  of  Miss  Lyle's  cheeks.  ' '  Even 
Rob  couldn't  endure  me, "  she  declared. 

"How  I  wish  you  would — " 

' '  Oh,  Mr.  Jennings,  please  bring  me 
that  runaway  ball ! " 

Peter  promptly  sprawled  after  the 
rolling  sphere  of  black  yarn.  He  se 
cured  it  under  the  sofa,  and  returned 
it  to  Miss  Lyle.  He  was  redder  than 
ever  from  the  exertion.  Even  his  heavy 
hands,  with  their  blunt  finger-tips  and 
square,  polished  nails,  were  blushing. 

"Thank  you.      That  ball   has   the 


202  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

most  insane  preference  for  escaping, 
and  for  eluding  capture.  It  led  you 
quite  a  chase." 

"Oh,  I'm  being  led  a  worse  chase 
than  that, "  broke  out  Peter,  desperately, 
And  then  he  added,  "By  you!" 

The  girl  made  a  little  protesting  ges 
ture. 

But  Peter  was  not  to  be  held  longer 
in  check.  "I'm  well  off,"  he  blurted 
on.  "At  least  my  father  is  well  off, 
and  I'll  come  in  for  everything." 

"That  is  a  pleasant  certainty." 

"Isn't  it,  though?"  he  cried,  beam 
ingly.  ' '  Now,  there's  Jardine.  I  don't 
believe  he'll  ever  get  another  penny 
from  his  people.  They  staked  him  a 
couple  of  times  before  he  came  out 
here." 

' '  You  knew  Mr.  Jardine  in  England  ?" 

"Y — es.  Not  intimately.  My  father 
held  a — er — a  position,  under  his  father. 
Of  course,  I  can't  expect  any  girl  to 
admire — I  mean  to  fancy — me,  who 
knows  Jardine.  He  isn't  as  young  as 
he  might  be,  and  he  dresses  most 


LltfE  A  GALLANT  LADY  203 

abominably,  but  somehow  there's  an 
air  about  him — I  daresay  you've  no 
ticed  it,"  he  faltered,  breaking  off  in 
deep  dejection, 

"I  don't  know  Mr.  Jardine  well," 
Ivera  said,  coldly. 

"Is  that  so?"  Jennings  cried,  joy 
ously.  ' '  I  thought — it  was  quite  absurd 
of  course,  but  I  thought  you  and  he 
were  such  friends !  I  know  he  is  cleverer 
than  I — and  some  would  think  lots  bet 
ter  looking.  But — well,  he  couldn't 
think  more  oiyou,  Miss  Lyle.  I  haven't 
run  through  a  couple  of  fortunes,  and 
I  don't  have  to  work  to  get  money 
now,  and — er — and  I — why,  I  adore  you, 
Miss  Lyle!  That's  just  the  word  for  it. 
I  adore  you!" 

Ivera  tossed  her  knitting  on  a  chair, 
and  stood  up.  "I  am  so  sorry  you 
have  spoken,  Mr.  Jennings.  It  was  all 
my  fault.  I  should  have  stopped  you. 
But  I  did  not  think  you  really  cared. 
I  wonder  if  you  will  forgive  me?" 

He  looked  down  at  the  sweet,  peni 
tent  face. 


204  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

' '  There  is  not  any  hope  for  me,  then  ? " 

She  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"But  you  are  sure  you  don't  care 
for  Jardine?'" 

"I  don't  care  for  any  man — in  that 
way!"  she  cried  passionately.  She 
thought  of  the  grave  on  the  wind-swept 
hill.  "Not  for  anyone!"  she  repeated. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"How  oft  to-night 
Have  my  old  feet  stumbled  at  graves!" 

— Romeo  and  Juliet. 

A  BITTER  January  night.  The 
wind  had  ceased  snarling,  but  the 
frozen  snow  crackled,  and  there  was 
something  uncanny  about  the  gray 
light  that  filled  the  gap  between  the 
sky  and  prairie.  The  theatrical  troupe 
of  a  patent  medicine  company  held 
forth  in  town  that  night.  As  it  was 
a  '  'free  show"  many  horses  were  hitched 
along  the  streets.  No  attention  was 
paid  to  one  belated  wagon  rattling 
south.  Those  in  the  Grand  Opera 
House  were  listening  to  the  wit  of  the 
strangers  with  eyes  and  ears  and  open 
mouths.  The  men  in  the  Owl-King 
saloon,  brimming  with  whisky  and 
hilarity,  kept  their  revolvers  popping 
at  a  certain  mark,  and  roared  appro- 
205 


206  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

val  or  derision  as  the  shot  struck  or 
flew  wide.  Two  men  sat  on  the  box 
of  the  spring  wagon.  Past  the  yellow 
gleam  from  the  last  window  pane, 
across  the  railroad  track,  around  a 
curve,  under  towering  cottonwoods,  over 
a  wooden  bridge  spanning  the  state 
line  dividing  Nebraska  from  Kansas, 
the  horses  sped.  When  up  a  steep 
hill  and  on  level  ground  again,  the 
driver  turned  to  the  right.  He  drove 
out  on  what  was  apparently  a  stretch 
of  barren  prairie,  but  the  jolting  over 
low  mounds,  and  the  upright  boards 
revealed  by  a  lantern  flickering  ahead 
of  them,  proved  they  were  in  a  grave 
yard. 

"This  here's  the  one."  said  a  cau 
tious  voice. 

McLelland,  holding  the  lantern,  had 
approached  the  wagon.  The  men 
jumped  out.  They  took  spades,  shov 
els,  pickaxes,  out  of  the  back  of  the 
wagon,  went  to  work.  A  couple  of 
other  men  who  had  walked  up  the  hill 
joined  those  by  the  grave.  They  talked 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  207 

with  McLelland  a  few  minutes.  The 
latter  hobbled  away  into  the  shadow 
where  a  little  black  figure  was  stand 
ing.  "The  men  you  saw  over  at  the 
county  seat  are  here.  They  say  if 
there  is  any  doubt  about  his  being 
buried  here  at  all,  it  would  be  better 
to  open  the  coffin  right  now.  We  can 
take  it  up  town  later  if — he's  in  it, 
you  know." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Ivera  Lyle. 

When  she  had  appealed  to  the  county 
authorities  for  permission  to  disinter 
the  body,  she  had  met  with  many  ob 
jections.  Chemical  analysis  would  be 
practically  out  of  the  question  at  this 
date.  If  the  man  had  really  died  of 
virulent  diphtheria,  the  exposure  of  the 
remains  would  be  fraught  with  danger 
to  the  living. 

"If  violence  were  responsible?"  she 
had  asked. 

"We  have  no  reason  for  supposing 
anything  of  the  sort." 

She  offered  other  arguments — in 
ducements.  She  was  young,  beautiful, 


208  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

wealthy.  Perhaps  the  latter  fact  proved 
most  potent  in  prevailing.  At  any 
rate,  it  was  with  the  sanction  and  in 
the  presence  of  the  authorities,  that 
the  grave  under  the  ostentatious  head 
stone  was  finally  opened.  Now,  save 
for  the  sound  of  the  striking  pick,  the 
shuffling  feet,  the  frozen  clods  flung 
from  the  spades,  there  was  silence  on 
the  hill.  Below,  the  scattered  lights 
of  the  town  showed  dull  and  distant. 

How  long  Ivera  Lyle  stood  there 
listening,  waiting,  she  never  knew.  She 
was  roused  by  McLelland  speaking  to 
her.  "Come,"  he  said. 

She  shuddered  back,  "Tell  me," 
she  entreated. 

' '  Come, "  he  said  again.  ' '  There  is 
nothing  to  fear." 

She  moved  mechanically  forward. 
She  found  herself  standing  beside  a 
deal  box.  The  lid  of  the  coffin  inside 
had  been  unscrewed — removed.  She 
looked  down.  She  saw  a  long,  brown, 
canvas  bag,  which  had  been  ripped 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  209 

open.  It  was  filled  with  excelsior  and 
stones.  That  was  all. 

"Look  out,"  a  man  cried,  flashing 
up  the  glare  of  a  lantern  in  her  face. 
"The  lady  is  fainting." 

"No — no,"  she  murmured.  "Mr. 
McLelland,  will  you  take  me  back 
now?" 

The  old  man  helped  her  into  a  buggy, 
and  they  drove  home  in  silence.  The 
town  was  dark  and  still.  There  was 
a  veiled  light  in  the  billiard  hall.  Be 
fore  the  doctor's  office,  Eldridge,  with 
a  medicine  case  in  his  hand,  was 
scrambling  on  horseback. 

Mrs.  McLelland,  enormous,  shape 
less  and  toothless,  in  her  stocking  feet, 
and  shaking  with  suspense,  opened  the 
door  for  her  husband  and  Miss  Lyle. 

"Well?"  she  questioned. 

"The  coffin  was  empty.  An'  say, 
Ma,  you  never  did  see  the  like  of  the 
way  that  linin'  had  changed  color.  An' 
Mahasby  must  have  charged  a  bigger 
profit  than  I  do,  too." 

' '  Oh,  Pa.  You  raise  the  price  to  as 
14 


210  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

much  as  your  progenitor  charged. 
Don't  let  anyone  sophisticate  you  like 
that.  Miss  Lyle,  I  bet  you  feel  good 
that  Mr.  Dudley  ain't  dead  after  all. 
But  where  is  he,  is  what  I  want  to 
know.  Sakes,  you  must  be  sick.  I 
never  see  anyone  look  so.  Pa,  you 
get  her  a  taste  of  that  Composition 
tea.  Its  very  inoculatin'  when  you  git 
a  turn.  I  b'lieve  I'd  have  fainted  plum 
away  that  day  Mis'  Stebbins  gave  me 
such  a  collapse  about  the  preacher 
a-goin'  to  investigate  me,  ef  I  hadn't 
swallered  a  couple  of  sups  right  quick. 
Things  will  come  out  all  right,  my 
dear,  an'  ef  they  don't,  we  all  got  to 
have  some  reservation  to  the  inimit 
able." 

Miss  Lyle,  smiling  a  little  at  the 
comforting  reflection  of  her  hostess, 
went  up  the  stairs  with  light,  lagging 
step. 

Morning  came,  clear,  calm,  omi 
nously  quiet.  Not  a  shred  of  withered 
grass  moved  anywhere,  not  a  bare 
branch  stirred.  Mrs.  McLelland  was 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  211 

making  soap.  A  neighbor  had  dropped 
in.  The  smell  of  hot  grease  and  lye 
came  up  between  the  loose  boards  of 
the  floor.  Ivera  could  hear  the  talk 
of  the  women.  The  petty  gossip,  the 
unwarrantable  inferences,  the  unchar 
itable  suppositions,  oppressed  and  hurt 
her.  She  put  on  her  wraps  and  slipped 
out,  turned  north.  Soon  she  was  on 
an  unfamiliar  road,  walking  rapidly. 
Suddenly  she  became  conscious  of  a 
deadly  chilliness  in  the  air.  She  turned 
hastily  to  retrace  her  steps.  The  cold 
increased — a  most  appalling  cold.  It 
penetrated  her  fur-lined  coat,  and 
seemed  to  pierce  the  marrow  of  her 
bones.  The  low-lying  Nebraska  sky 
hung  nearer  than  ever.  She  fancied 
that  she  could  almost  put  up  her  hand 
and  touch  it,  as  if  it  were  a  tangible 
object.  Then  she  became  aware  that 
it  was  snowing  fast,  fine,  thick,  dense, 
blinding  snow.  She  hurried  back  along 
the  road  she  had  come,  but  found  she 
could  not  see  ahead  for  the  white  wall 
that  closed  in,  before  —  around  her. 


212  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Was  this  bitter  whiteness  snow?  She 
had  always  thought  of  snow  as  soft, 
gentle,  tender.  This  that  assailed  her 
was  icy,  and  so  sharp  it  stung  like  fly 
ing  particles  of  metal  where  it  touched 
her  face.  The  wind  that  had  sprung 
up  blew  from  every  quarter,  east,  west, 
north,  south.  It  commingled,  shrieked, 
and  swirled,  and  eddied  the  falling  snow 
into  a  thousand  fantastic  drifts  and 
spirals.  Around  a  little  dark,  struggling 
figure,  that  wild  whiteness  surged  and 
revolved.  Ivera  Lyle  was  strong  and 
brave  of  heart,  but  many  a  man  per 
ished  in  that  memorable  blizzard.  On, 
she  would  keep  on,  she  told  herself  she 
would  keep  going.  It  could  not  last 
forever.  She  must  come  on  the  town 
soon.  But  only  to  be  able  to  see — any 
thing.  If  she  could  only  make  out  the 
fences,  or  the  shape  of  a  dwelling,  or  a 
landmark  of  any  kind.  Close  to  her 
eyes  was  the  whirling  snow — only  the 
snow.  A  few  steps  more.  Surely  she 
was  moving  in  the  right  direction.  In 
any  case  she  must  keep  in  motion.  It 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY          -       213 

were  death  to  surrender.  But  the  cold! 
She  had  never  imagined  such  cold.  It 
went  through  her  body  like  sword 
thrusts.  Her  feet  ached  with  the  agony 
of  it.  Her  hands  hung  numb.  The 
very  sight  seemed  freezing  in  her  eyes. 
Still  she  battled  on — buffeted  on.  But 
suddenly  she  stumbled,  stood  still. 
She  could  go  no  further.  The  snow 
was  no  longer  white.  It  had  become 
a  prismatic  thing,  violet,  yellow,  crim 
son.  It  must  be  growing  warmer.  The 
awful  pain  of  the  cold  was  passing  from 
her.  She  felt  all  at  once  oppressed 
with  fatigue.  A  delicious  drowsiness 
weighed  her  eyelids  down.  She  must 
rest — sleep. 

"Ivera.  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear!" 
She  heard  the  cry  through  a  mist — a 
thick,  white  mist.  Then  a  coat  was 
wrapped  around  her,  she  was  lifted  into 
a  vehicle,  and  she  knew  no  more  until 
she  found  herself  looking  at  the  plas 
tered  walls  of  Mrs.  McLelland's  spare 
bedroom,  and  the  bright  patchwork 
quilt  on  Mrs.  McLelland's  spare  bed. 


214  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Have  I  been  sick?"  she  asked. 

"I  dunno  as  you  can  rightly  call 
it  sick,"  Mrs.  McLelland  responded. 
"You  had  been  pretty  nigh  froze  to 
death.  You  went  off  a-gallavantin' 
with  a  blizzard  a-comin'  up,  an'  you 
got  caught  in  it — that's  what  you  done. 
Mr.  Jardine,  he  see  you  a-crossin'  the 
hill,  and  he  come  here  to  find  out  ef 
you  was  back.  When  I  reciprocated 
that  you  warn't  he  tore  off  like  a  in 
compatible  creature.  'Twas  a  good 
thing  he  found  you.  That  was  a  full 
week  ago." 

"Has  Rob  been  here?" 

"Lord — yes.  They  all  been  here. 
That  silly  Moll  Chourka  a-walkin'  in 
to  know  ef  you  was  dyin',  an'  that 
there  tomato-colored  Mr.  Jennings  a- 
a-settin'in  my  parlor,  and  a-rockin'  his- 
self  in  my  rocker,  an'  a-droppin'  tears 
on  my  red  plush  album  that  he  was 
purtendin'  to  be  circumventin'.  Oh, 
they  was  all  here — yes." 

' '  I'm  dreadfully  sorry  you've  had  so 
much  trouble." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  215 

"Oh,  I  don't  call  it  trouble,  but  it 
seems  like  everything  counts.  I've 
been  a  good  deal  rousted  one  way  an' 
another.  Hogs  is  down  to  2.35,  an' 
them  Pa  was  savin'  to  ship  won't  bring 
much. " 

"That  is  too  bad." 

"An',"  despondingly,  "that  there 
Harper  woman  ain't  dead  yet." 

"Well!" 

"About  the  worst  of  all  is  what  hap 
pened  Susanna.  Pa,  he  went  and 
killed  her." 

"Killed— who?" 

"Susanna — my  old  cat,  you  know. 
I  hadn't  no  cat  when  I  moved  here 
from  Illinois.  I  felt  reel  friendless  till 
the  grocer  give  me  one.  She  was  a 
most  beautiful  cat,  white  with  a  yel 
lowish  cast  about  her.  An'  that  polite. 
I  never  see  a  cat  so  polite  an'  generous. 
She'd  bring  a  mouse  an'  put  it  right 
down  at  my  feet.  She  wouldn't  offer 
to  tech  it  till  I'd  say  'Help  yourself, 
Susanna!'  After  a  while  she  become 
affiliated  with  a  sore  head.  Did  you 


2l6  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

ever  have  a  cat  that  had  a  sore  head  ?" 
Miss   Lyle   failed   to    recall    having 
possessed  a  feline  so  afflicted. 

' '  It  wasn't  nice, "  she  said,  in  placid 
retrospection,  letting  her  elephantine 
proportions  creak  back  in  the  chair. 
"Folks  who  were  not  strong  to  their 
stummicks  objected.  Pa,  not  wantin' 
to  hurt  my  feelin's,  would  perspicuously 
go  out  when  Susanna  come  in.  Often 
cold  evenin's  when  Pa  'ud  go  out  I 
used  to  git  down  the  black  bottle  from 
the  clock  shelf,  an'  make  myself  a  bit 
of  Composition  Tea,  which  is  warmin' 
and  soothin',  but  which  Pa  is  kinder 
close  of.  Susanna  kep  gettin'  worse 
an'  Pa  he  stayed  out'n  doors  a  good 
deal — I  had  her  in  a  box  behind  the 
stove.  One  night  he  came  in  with 
chillblains.  'Ef  you'll  bile  a  drop  of- 
water,  Maria,'  he  says,  'I'll  see  ef  I 
kin  swaller  a  few  sups  of  Composition 
Tea. '  With  that  he  reaches  up  behind 
the  clock,  an'  I  felt  my  heart  a-scram- 
bulatin'  all  over  my  buzzum. 

"'What's  this?'   he   says.     'There 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  217 

ain't  none.'  "Pa,'  I  says,  'you  bein' 
out'n  the  house  so  much  evenin's,  an' 
me  tending  Susanna  alone,  I  got  reel 
run  down.  I  got  chills.  I  had  to  take 
Composition  Tea  occasional  to  keep  off 
par — paresis. ' 

'" What's  that?'  asks  Pa,  lookin' at 
the  empty  bottle,  an'  then  at  me. 
'It's  somethin'  I've  read  about  in  the 
papers.'  I  says;  'it  comes  from  menial 
aggravation  and  general  probability  of 
the  system.  An'  what  with  Susanna — ' 

"But  Pa  cut  me  short  there.  'See 
here,  Maria, '  he  says,  '  Susanna  might 
be  kep'  comfortable  by  a  family  as 
owned  a  drugstore.  But  ef  tendin' 
Susanna  is  goin'  to  cause  you  to  use 
up  a  quart  of  Composition  Tea  in  ten 
days,  I'm  thinkin'  she'd  better  be  put 
where  she  won't  be  givin'  folks  the 
latest  fashion  in  complaints.'  I  see 
how  put  out  Pa  was,  so  I  offered  to 
git  him  some  of  the  catnip  tea  I'd  been 
givin'  Susanna  in  her  milk,  but  he  re 
taliated  my  kindness.  Nex'  mornin' 
what  should  I  see  but  Pa,  when  he 


21 8  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

thought  I  was  busy  sewin'  carpet  rags, 
a-climbin'  the  fence  with  suthin'  under 
each  arm.  Cold  water  began  to  drizzle 
down  my  back.  I  run  to  Susanna's 
box.  It  was  empty — but  I  knowed  it 
would  be,  fur  I  missed  the  aroma  be 
fore  I  seen  Susanna  had  departed.  I 
felt  like  the  man  in  the  song  who  seen 
the  valley  smilin'  before  him  where 
lately  he  left  her  behind,  but  I  knowed 
I  couldn't  ketch  up  to  Pa  to  abstract  his 
attention  from  Susanna.  When  he 
come  home  I  never  said  beans.  The 
nex'  mornin'  when  I  poured  his  coffee, 
I  was  silent  as  the  minx.  His  dinner 
was  settin'  on  the  table  when  he  come 
home  at  noon,  an'  I  seen  he  was 
a-watchin'  me.  Supper  was  the  same 
way.  Oh,  it  was  reel  onpleasant  to 
to  make  him  squirm,  but  I  had  to  com 
plicate  my  pride  that  Pa's  action  had 
prodded. " 

"It  must  have  been  hard  for  you," 
Ivera  murmured. 

' '  It  were.  It  were  hard  fur  Pa,  too. 
By'n  by,  '  Maria, '  he  says.  I  looks  at 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  219 

him.  '  Ef  you  git  me  the  quart  bottle, ' 
he  says,  meek-like,  'I'll  go  down  and 
git  it  filled  with  Composition  Tea.' 
'Yes,  Pa,'  I  says,  jumpin'  up  quick 
fur  fear  he'd  change  his  mind.  'An' 
I  don't  bear  you  malice,  Pa,  though  you 
don't  need  to  think  that  I  hadn't  a  pre 
sentation  in  my  mind  of  what  you  was 
goin'  to  do,  when  I  see  you  straddlin' 
the  fence  with  Susanna  under  one  arm, 
an'  a  gun  under  the  other. '  I  had  the 
kettle  bilin'  when  he  got  back,  an'  the 
Composition  Tea  was  reel  soothin' — but 
I  miss  Susanna." 

The  next  day,  as  Ivera  sat  in  a  wooden 
chair  by  the  kitchen  stove,  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  back  door.  Mrs.  McLel- 
land  had  gone  down  town.  Ivera  called, 
"Come  in!"  Jack  Jardine  opened  the 
door.  He  half  drew  back — then  came 
forward.  He  was  roughly  clad  in  cor 
duroy  and  leather.  His  high  boots 
were  splashed  with  mud.  He  stood, 
hat  in  hand,  his  gaze  bent  full  upon  her. 

"You  are  better,"  he  said.  "That 
is  good." 


220  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

' '  I  hear  I  owe  my  life  to  you,  Mr. 
Jardine. " 

"That  is  nonsense.  I  happened 
along — and  drove  you  here.  That  is 
all." 

There  was  a  silence.  He  found  him 
self  noticing  that  the  ribbons  on  her 
gown  matched  her  eyes. 

Suddenly  she  spoke  of  the  subject  he 
abhorred.  ' '  Do  you  know  that  I  had 
Mark  Dudley's  grave  opened?" 

"No,   I  did  not  know." 

He  had  himself  very  well  in  hand,  she 
decided.  ' '  You  are  aware  of  what  we 
found  in  the  coffin,  Mr.  Jardine?" 

He  bowed.  Again  that  palpitant 
silence  came  between  them.  "Will 
you  tell  me,"  she  implored,  "  Where 
is  Mark  Dudley?" 

That  high  bred  face  of  his  with  its 
fine  features,  its  luminous  hazel  eyes, 
all  at  once  looked  aged — hardened. 
"Ask  your  brother,"  he  commanded. 

' '  Rob — "  The  word  was  uttered  in 
supreme  amazement. 

"Rob — yes."    One  stride  across  the 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  22 1 

small  space  intervening  brought  him 
to  her  side.  He  grasped  her  hand  with 
a  fierce  grip. 

"Why  will  you  be  so  cruel?  You 
know — you  must  know  that  I  love  you 
better  than  anything  on  earth  or  in 
heaven.  I'm  not  blaming  you  for  my 
folly.  One  might  as  well  blame  a  rose 
for  being  a  rose.  Good-bye." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"For  here's  a  paper  written  in  his  hand." 

—  Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 


^WOU  better  wrap  up  warm  ef  you 
I  got  your  mind  sot  on  goin'  down 
to  answer  that,  "  advised  Mrs.  McLel- 
land.  "It's  the  kind  of  day  I  despise. 
It  ain't  a-thawin'  thinner  nor  a-freez- 
ing  solider.  Seem  like  it's  standin' 
still.  An'  the  snow  over  on  them  bluffs 
has  peeled  off  in  patches  like  frostin' 
that's  ett  off'n  a  plum  cake.  You'll  git 
back  in  time  fur  dinner?  Pa  ain't 
home.  He's  gone  to  see  about  bury- 
in'  that  Harper  woman,  who  has  ceased 
opposin'  her  will  to  her  Maker's,  an' 
gone  from  this  vale  of  tears  like  a 
obedient  Baptist  should.  Her  son  an' 
Pa  picked  out  a  coning  the  linin'  of 
which  will  be  most  becomin'  to  a  woman 
with  reddish  hair.  You  know  Pa  keeps 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  223 

coffings  of  all  sizes  and  denominations. 
I'll  wait  to  cook  till  you  come,  fur  I 
do  allus  say  it's  fearful  frivolous  eatin' 
alone.  Don't  you  go  huntin'  another 
blizzard,  now!" 

1 '  I  shan't, "  Ivera  smilingly  promised 
as  she  went  out.  She  walked  down 
to  the  depot.  A  familiar  boyish  figure 
lounging  along  the  platform  caught  her 
eye.  She  went  hastily  up  to  him. 

"Rob!  I'm  so  glad  to  meet  you. 
I  was  wondering  how  I  could  send  you 
word  that  I  am  going  back.  I  must 
leave  to-morrow." 

He  had  turned,  courteous  but  frown 
ing.  The  cloud  on  his  handsome, 
youthful  face  vanished  as  she  spoke. 

"You  are  really  going  back,   Ive?" 

She  drew  a  yellow  envelope  from 
the  pocket  of  her  coat — gave  it  to  him. 
He  glanced  through  the  inclosure. 
"It  does  seem  imperative,"  he  com 
mented. 

"Oh,  it  is.  Uncle  James  always 
said  there  would  be  trouble  about  the 
validity  of  those  deeds  when  the  case 


224  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

came  up  in  the  courts.  I  must  be 
there  personally  to  testify.  You  don't 
seem  sorry  to  lose  me,  Rob?" 

"Well,  you  know  what  came  be 
tween  us. " 

"Yes — I  know.     And  I  was  right." 

He  looked  at  her  sharply.  "What 
do  you  mean  by  that?" 

' '  I  mean  that  I  was  right  in  my  wild 
conjecture.  There  has  been  'villany 
somewhere — Whose  ?'  I  had  the  grave 
opened,  as  you  probably  heard — "  She 
observed  how  violently  he  started. 
' '  What !  You  had  not  heard  it  ?  What 
was  committed  to  that  grave,  Rob,  in 
deceit  was  returned  in  mockery." 

"My  God,  Ive!  I  say,  what  a  girl 
you  are !  Now  that  you  have  discovered 
Mark  is  alive,  you  are  satisfied. " 

"Why  should  I  be?  Besides,  how 
do  I  know  he  is  alive?  I  only  know 
he  does  not  lie  below  the  monument 
which  bears  his  name.  The  next  thing 
is  to  learn  where  he  is — alive  or  dead. 
I  asked  Mr.  Jardine  to  tell  me.  He 
told  me  to  ask  you." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  225 

Rob's  delicate  features  flushed  with 
rage. 

"Confound  Jardine!  I  never  saw 
Mark  Dudley  after  he  left  this  town. 
Jardine  has  seen  him  since.  Let  it 
drop,  Ive,  like  a  good  girl.  It's  a  cursed 
business  from  first  to  last.  It  is  bet 
ter  you  should  know  no  more — believe 
me,  it  is  better.  You  will  be  happier 
all  the  days  of  your  life  if  you  will 
let  the  matter  rest." 

She  had  never  known  him  speak  so 
earnestly  —  with  so  much  emotion. 
Their  eyes  met. 

"I  must  let  it  rest,  as  you  say,  for 
the  present.  I  shall  go  East  to-mor 
row.  But,  of  course,  I  will  come  back. 
I  have  gone  too  far  to  surrender  now." 

He  laughed  —  a  laugh  of  relief. 
' '  '  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  good 
resolution  thereof!'  You  will  meet  a 
Prince  Charming  who  will  never  let  you 
come  back  to  this  God-forgotten  coun 
try." 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  waiting- 


226  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

room  for  her.  She  smiled  and  shook 
her  head  as  she  passed  in. 

"Hold  on!"  Rob  entreated.  "You 
don't  care  for  Mark  yet — do  you,  Ive?" 

She  stood  still.  She  felt  oddly 
thrilled.  She  was  trembling.  She 
looked  back  at  her  brother — in  silence. 

"That's  right,  dear!"  he  said,  with 
more  heartiness  and  affection  than  he 
usually  showed.  "He  wasn't  worthy 
of  you.  It  won't  hurt  him  now  to  say 
that,  and  it  may  do  you  some  good  to 
remember  it.  I'll  be  in  to-morrow.  I'll 
go  as  far  as  Lincoln  with  you." 

There  was  quite  a  gathering  at  the 
depot  to  see  Miss  Lyle  off.  A  few 
women  she  had  come  to  know  ap 
peared,  also  half  a  dozen  impression 
able  men.  Evidently  she  had  not  been 
blotted  from  the  adaptable  heart  of 
Mr.  Mahasby  by  the  charms  of  Miss 
Melinda  Carberry,  for  he  was  present 
in  a  condition  of  more  imbecile  ami 
ability  than  usual.  Jennings,  in  his 
finest  London  suit,  wearing  gloves  and 
necktie  of  a  mournful  heliotrope,  es- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  227 

thetically  expressive  of  woe,  stalked  up 
and  down  the  farther  part  of  the  plat 
form,  aloof  and  inconsolable.  A  whistle 
sounded.  The  train  swerved  around 
a  distant  curve,  and  swept  down  the 
rails  that  glittered  blue  in  the  sunshine. 
Ivera  Lyle,  the  center  of  a  small,  ex 
clamatory  group,  gave  one  fleeting  look 
at  the  graveyard  on  the  hill,  and  then 
glanced  back  at  the  stout  little  man, 
pacing  solitary  and  forlorn.  She  broke 
away  from  the  others  and  went  up  to 
him.  She  held  out  her  hand. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Jennings.  Keep  a 
kind  thought  for  me  even  if  I  don't 
deserve  it." 

Her  slim  fingers  lay  in  his  thick, 
tight  hold.  He  looked  at  her  with  a 
little  blinking  eyes  that  threatened  to 
brim  over. 

"I  may  write  to  you?"  he  begged. 

' '  If, "  quizzically,  ' '  you  promise  to  be 
reticent  on  one  subject." 

' '  I  will  be — as  long  as  I  can. " 

Then  the  train  rushed  in.  The  hand- 


228  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

shaking  was  over.  Rob  helped  his  sister 
on  board.  The  cars  rumbled  out. 

" Queer  Jardine  never  showed  up," 
Rob  ventured,  as  they  drew  near  the 
next  station.  "He  looked  downright 
feazed  when  I  told  him  in  the  Owl-King 
last  night  that  you  were  leaving  to-day. 
Hallo!  Who  is  that,  riding  like  the 
devil?" 

A  man  on  horseback  was  galloping 
down  the  main  street  of  the  little  town 
ahead.  He  reached  the  depot,  sprang 
from  his  horse,  and  flung  the  basket  he 
carried  to  the  conductor  'as  the  train 
pulled  out.  The  conductor  came  into 
the  car. 

"I  guess,"  he  volunteered  with  the 
easy  assurance  of  Western  train  men, 
' '  this  is  for  your  lady  friend,  Rob. " 

Lyle  opened  the  basket.  It  was  rilled 
with  cut  flowers,  geraniums,  myrtles, 
carnations,  double  petunias.  Nothing 
rare  or  costly — merely  the  poor  best  of 
a  prairie  greenhouse  at  the  season. 

"What  a  fool  that  fellow  is!"  Rob 
remarked,  disgustedly.  "He  had  to 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  229 

ride  thirty  miles  to-day  to  get  you  this 
truck!" 

' ' If  the  basket  is  mine,  be  good  enough 
to  pass  it  over.  And  I  do  object  to 
hearing  flowers  called  truck." 

The  first  act  of  Robert  Lyle,  when  he 
returned  to  Bubble,  was  to  tell  Prior 
that  he  wished  the  partnership  for 
mally  dissolved  as  soon  as  possible.  To 
this  Prior  cheerfully  consented.  He  was 
sick  of  the  infernal  country  anyhow,  he 
said. 

Two  weeks  passed.  Lyle  stayed 
pretty  steadily  at  the  farm,  and  de 
voted  himself  to  his  neglected  work. 
Jennings  sometimes  rode  out  in  the 
evening  for  a  smoke  and  a  chat.  He 
liked  to  sit  in  the  room  that  bore  traces 
of  her  occupancy.  He  found  a  vicarious 
pleasure  in  the  companionship  of  her 
brother.  His  depression  was  profound. 
Apart  from  the  absence  of  the  girl  he 
worshiped,  the  dilemma  which  con 
fronted  him  rendered  him  melancholy. 
After  many  unsuccessful  attempts  to 


230  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

indite  a  letter  to  Ivera  he  went  to  Jar- 
dine,  and  threw  himself  upon  the  mer 
cies  of  that  unsympathetic  individual. 

' '  It  isn't, "  he  confided  to  Jack,  ' '  that 
I  can't  spell,  or  write  a  good  hand.  It 
isn't  even  that  I  fall  down  on  grammar 
sometimes.  I'd  make  a  stagger  at  that. 
It  is  that  I  don't  understand  lots  of 
things  she  cares  about,  and  even  if  I 
did  I  could  not  write  the  way  some 
fellows  do — catchingly,  cleverly,  you 
know. " 

"I  know,"  Jack  said,  grimly.  He 
had  read  some  of  Peter's  epistolary  at 
tempts. 

"Now,  what  I  want  to  ask,"  said 
Jennings,  "is  this:  Will  you  write  my 
letters  for  me  ? " 

It  was  the  first  time  Peter  had  ever 
seen  his  partner  excited.  The  latter 
was  sitting  smoking,  one  leg  flung  over 
the  corner  of  the  table.  He  took  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  stared  at 
Jennings. 

"Good  God,  no!"  he  exclaimed. 

Peter's  round,   red  face  took   on  an 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  231 

aggrieved  expression.  "Why  won't 
you  ?  " 

' '  Why, "  crisply,  '  'should  I  ?  " 

i(  Because  you  care  nothing  for  the 
girl,  and  I'm  dead  in  love  with  her. 
You  didn't  as  much  as  show  up  at  the 
train  to  see  her  off.  Even  that  brute, 
Mahasby,  was  there.  Because  she's  far 
and  away  the  smartest  girl  I  ever  met, 
and  she  doesn't  know  I'm  a  fool.  I 
don't  want  her  to  find  out  the  fact,  if  I 
can  help  it.  She  is  bound  to  make  the 
discovery  if  I  write  to  her.  I  know  I've 
got  nerve,  as  you  Westerners  say,  to 
ask  it,  but  it  means  a  lot  to  me.  Be  a 
good  fellow,  Jardine!  Write  and  let 
me  copy  your  letters!" 

Jardine  called  to  his  memory  the 
timid  little  maiden  in  Sussex,  and  his 
heart  beat  no  faster.  Then  he  thought 
of  the  Eastern  girl  with  the  tawny  hair, 
and  the  dark  blue  eyes,  and  the  quaint, 
pretty  name,  and  he  said,  brusquely, 
' '  You  must  be  crazy,  Jennings !  " 

"She's  nothing  to  you,"  Peter  in 
sisted,  sturdily. 


232  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Jardine  laughed  as  he  emptied  his 
pipe,  and  refilled  it  with  his  long, 
brown  fingers.  He  admired  the  per 
sistency  of  the  fellow  immensely. 

' '  Look  here, "  he  said,  as  he  drew  a 
match  across  his  boot  sole,  ' '  if  I  were — 
mind,  I  only  say  if  I  were  to  write  those 
letters,  I  should  have  to  know  the  con 
tents  of  hers — supposing  she  replied. 
She  might  not  like  that." 

' '  I  wish  to  heaven  she  cared !"  groaned 
Jennings.  "She  only  consented  to 
allow  me  to  write  to  her  on  condition 
I  wouldn't  allude  to  one  subject — well, 
you  see,  I'd  been  making  a  fool  of  my 
self." 

"Oh,  I  understand.  In  that  case, 
I'll  do  it,"  Jardine  decided,  briskly. 

Jennings  'jumped  up.  His  smile  re 
vealed  his  large  white  teeth. 

"You're  a  brick,  Jardine!" 

"Oh,  hang  it,  wait  a  while,"  Jack 
counseled.  "I  may  make  a  fizzle  of 
the  deal." 

But  he  did  not  make  a  fizzle  of  it. 
The  correspondence  was  tremendously 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  233 

successful.  Jennings  was  delighted  with 
the  letters  he  mailed,  and  the  replies 
he  received.  Indeed  Jardine  was  some 
what  enthusiastic  himself.  His  personal 
vanity  stimulated  him.  He  determined 
Ivera  Lyle  should  look  for  and  appre 
ciate  his  letters,  even  if  they  were 
copied,  signed,  and  sent  by  Peter  Jen 
nings. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"The  rest  is  silence," 

— Hamlet. 

"  TT  isn't  half  a  bad  thing  that  folly 
1    is   sometimes   its   own    reward," 
Jack  remarked  once  to  his  partner. 

He  had  just  finished  a  letter  to  Ivera, 
and  was  well  satisfied  with  the  produc 
tion.  Peter  stared  at  him,  twisted  the 
big  cornelian  ring  on  his  finger,  smiled 
a  smile  that  was  at  once  lenient  and 
uncomprehending,  and  the  subject  was 
dropped. 

Miss  Lyle  had  found  it  necessary,  in 
the  supervision  of  the  estate  she  had 
inherited,  to  go  to  New  York,  but  her 
replies  to  the  letters  from  Nebraska 
continued  to  come  regularly.  She 
wrote  much  of  plays,  books,  people,  ar 
tistic  happenings.  Her  letters  brought 
much  pleasure  to  Jack  Jardine,  some 
embarrassment  to  Peter  Jennings. 
234 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  235 

Still,  there  were  times  when  the  latter 
mailed  a  particularly  brilliant  letter, 
that  he  felt  a  personal  pride  in  it.  He 
looked  approvingly  at  the  clerkly  hand 
on  the  envelope.  It  was  not  every 
man  who  could  send  letters  which  such 
a  bright  girl  as  Ivera  Lyle  would  enjoy. 
For  Ivera  had  confessed  she  read  his 
missives  with  admiration.  Thus,  tem 
porarily,  he  thrust  Jardine  out  of  sight. 
But  after  a  while  his  flattering  imagina 
tion  failed  to  content  him.  It  was  not 
the  pleasantest  thing  in  the  world  to 
turn  over  Ivera's  latest  letter  to  Jardine, 
and  watch  the  smile  of  his  partner  as 
he  read  it.  And  there  was  scant  solace 
in  seeing  Jack  reply  to  it,  his  emphatic 
pen  speeding  over  the  paper,  his  hazel 
eyes  lighting  or  glooming  with  the 
mood  of  the  matter  he  discussed.  For 
Jack  wrote  in  a  style  that  did  credit  to 
Exeter  College,  and  the  vagrant,  de 
lightful  -existence  he  had  known.  He 
was  quite  as  gay,  cynical,  adroit  and 
illogical  as  any  woman  could  desire. 
With  the  growing  interest  of  Jardine 


236  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

in  the  correspondence  the  perplexity 
of  Jennings  increased.  He  wondered 
sometimes  in  futile  bewilderment  what 
they  were  talking  about.  Their  refer 
ences  puzzled  him.  Their  ironies  irri 
tated  him.  Their  subtleties  confused 
him.  As  for  Jack,  he  began  to  count 
and  to  live,  one  by  one,  the  days  that 
must  elapse  before  a  reply  could  be 
reasonably  expected,  and  to  betray  a 
warm  welcome  for  Peter  when  he  ap 
peared  with  it.  The  sight  of  that  deli 
cate,  defiant,  distinctive  chirography 
set  his  pulses  tingling.  He  knew,  apart 
from  the  personal  association  the  letter 
conveyed,  what  a  feast  it  was  sure  to 
prove.  Not  one  girl  in  a  thousand 
could  write  like  that!  Such  airy  ear 
nestness,  such  gentle  humor,  such  piq 
uant  description,  such  gracious  woman 
liness,  and  the  unconscious  pathos  with 
which  she  wrote  of  homely  things, 
made  him  think  of  dew  on  burdock 
leaves. 

It  was   May.     The   terrible  heat  of 
summer  in  the  desert  had  begun.    Daily 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  237 

great  white  clouds  of  dust  were  blowing 
from  the  south.  Peter  continued  to  re 
ceive  at  intervals  the  faintly  fragrant 
missives  that  took  five  days  to  come 
from  their  starting  place  on  the  Atlantic 
coast,  to  turn  them  over  to  Jardine, 
when  he  had  read  their  contents,  and 
to  copy  and  send  their  prompt  replies. 
In  a  vague,  impotent  way,  Peter  felt 
that  every  letter  he  sent  and  every 
reply  he  received  tended  to  draw  Ivera 
Lyle  and  Jack  Jardine  closer  together, 
and  to  cast  him  into  outer  darkness. 
One  evening  his  dumb  dissatisfaction 
reached  a  climax.  He  was  pulling  up 
his  horse  before  the  shop  in  which  the 
postoffijce  was  located,  when  Jack  Jar- 
dine  came  out. 

' '  There's  no  letter  for  you, "  he  said. 

Jennings  blustered  out  an  oath.  ' '  I'd 
like  to  know  who  commissioned  you  to 
ask  for  my  mail?"  he  cried,  angrily. 
He  stood  his  ground,  although  Jack 
looked  at  him  in  that  magnificent  way 
of  his  that  always  made  Peter  feel  like 
apologizing  for  the  fact  of  his  existence. 


238  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"I'll  thank  you,"  he  supplemented,  still 
fuming,  "not  to  meddle  with  my  let 
ters."' 

' '  I  meant  to  have  saved  you  the 
trouble  of  calling,"  Jack  replied,  coldly. 
"You  may  be  sure  that  after  this  I 
shall  take  no  interest  in  your  personal 
affairs. " 

They  separated,  each  feeling  rather 
proud  of  himself.  Elation  was  still  up 
permost  with  Peter  when,  on  the  fol 
lowing  day,  he  received  a  letter  from 
Ivera  Lyle.  He  decided  to  answer  it. 
He  would  have  her  all  to  himself  for 
the  first  time.  He  wondered  why  he 
had  ever  been  so  foolish  as  to  make 
that  absurd  request  of  Jardine.  He  set 
bravely  to  work.  He  found  the  task 
a  difficult  one.  He  attempted  to  imi 
tate  Jardine's  style — and  failed.  Then 
the  subjects  she  wrote  on  were  sealed 
mysteries  to  him.  What  did  he 
know  about  Dvorak's  Slavonic  dances  ? 
What  did  he  understand  about  Tree's 
portrayals?  What  significance  had 
Konchil's  latest  impressionistic  aqua- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  239 

relle  for  him  ?  He  would  ignore  these 
matters.  He  would  say  he  was  writ 
ing  hastily.  He  would  regretfully 
mention  that  their  usual  fascinating  dis 
cussion  mnst  be  postponed.  But — he 
could  not  say  this  every  time.  The 
awful  possibility  occurred  to  him  that 
Jardine,  missing  the  pleasure  of  reading 
the  letters,  might  start  up  a  corre 
spondence  on  his  own  account.  The 
similarity  of  thought  would  suggest, 
perhaps  reveal,  the  deception  practiced. 
Then  Ivera  would  despise  him — Peter 
Jennings!  There  was  only  one  way  to 
win  security — to  again  request  Jack's 
aid.  He  felt  there  was  no  danger  of 
Jack  betraying  his  confidence.  He  was 
in  a  cold  sweat  when  he  ran  out  to  sad 
dle  the  mare.  He  found  his  partner 
sitting  in  the  rear  of  his  shack,  reading 
and  smoking. 

"I  was  provoked  yesterday,"  Jen 
nings  apologized.  ' '  Let  us  go  on  about 
those  letters  as  we  have  been  doing." 

Jardine  began  to  curse  his  partner 
with  much  energy,  but  the  day  was 


240  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

dull,  his  novel  was  stupid,  and  the 
square  white  envelope  looked  tempting. 
He  held  out  his  hand  for  it.  Jennings 
deposited  himself  on  the  discarded  seat 
of  an  old  wagon.  He  fidgeted,  bit  his 
nails,  started  to  speak,  thought  better 
of  it,  and  lapsed  into  a  condition  of  en 
vious  scrutiny.  Jardine's  countenance 
evinced  as  much  interest  in  the  pages 
he  was  skimming  as  if  they  contained 
the  statistics  of  Transylvania. 

' '  Would  you  mind  answering  that 
letter  now?"  Peter  broke  in.  Jardine 
returned  the  envelope  with  an  air  of 
profound  indifference.  He  was  telling 
himself  how  fortunate  it  was  he  had  not 
engaged  himself  to  that  girl  in  Sussex. 
Then  he  thought  of  Mark  Dudley,  and 
decided  it  didn't  matter  much  after  all. 
He  took  a  pencil  out  of  his  vest  pocket 
and  began  to  scribble  the  date  on  the 
fly-leaf  of  his  book. 

"The  usual  thing,  I  suppose,"  he 
said,  carelessly. 

' '  No, "  Peter  replied,  quickly.  ' '  Not 
the  usual  thing  at  all."  Then  as  Jar- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  241 

dine  pushed  back  his  hat  and  looked  at 
him,  he  stammered:  "I  want  you  to 
write  and — and  ask  her  to  marry  me." 

Jardine  suddenly  found  the  sun  too 
hot.  He  went  into  the  house,  and 
Peter  followed. 

' '  You  asked  her  that, "  Jack  reminded 
him,  ''before  she  left."  This,  he  re 
flected,  was  a  task  he  had  not  bargained 
for. 

"I  know  that,"  assented  Peter, 
breathing  hard.  ' '  We  were  not  so  well 
acquainted  then,  though.  Besides,  she 
gave  me  a  certain  amount  of  encourage 
ment  when  she  permitted  me  to  write 
at  all,  and  in  answering  my  letters." 

A  smile  came  around  the  corners  of 
Jardine's  mouth.  "But  that  permis 
sion  was  given — I  understood  you  to 
say — on  condition  you  would  not  again 
declare  your  devotion.  The  restriction 
holds  good." 

' '  I  think  not.  We  know  each  other 
so  much  better  now.  It  seems  so  any 
way,  since  we  have  been  correspond- 
ing." 

16 


242  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Quite  so!"  agreed  Jack,  gravely. 
But  the  next  instant  he  had  burst  into 
a  sudden  peal  of  laughter — spontane 
ous,  ecstatic. 

"Now,  what  the  devil  are  you  laugh 
ing  at?"  Jennings  demanded. 

"Oh,  nothing.  Just  a  ridiculous 
idea.  So  you  wish  me  to  write  your 
proposal?  Shall  it  be  very  fervent?" 
He  was  striving  with  all  his  might  to 
keep  from  another  outbreak  of  mirth. 
Jennings  adjusted  his  massive  cuff 
links,  and  eyed  his  partner  suspiciously. 
He  must  get  through  with  this  matter — 
and  he  was  at  the  mercy  of  Jardine. 

"Write,"  he  advised,  with  an  adroit 
ness  upon  which  he  flattered  himself, 
' '  as  you  would  write  yourself  to  the  girl 
you  desired  to  make  your  wife." 

Jardine  nodded.  He  no  longer  ex 
perienced  an  inclination  to  laugh.  He 
sat  down  and  wrote  as  he  had  never 
written  before — as  he  would  never  write 
again.  A  seriousness  overshadowed 
Peter's  flamboyant  countenance  as  he 
read  the  screed  over.  ' '  One  would 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  243 

think, "  he  hazarded  slowly,  ' '  that  you 
meant  all  this. " 

1 '  You  asked  me  to  write  as  I  would 
write  to  the  girl  I  loved  well  enough  to 
marry,  and  I  have  done  so." 

"Thanks,  awfully,  dear  boy.  This 
ought  to  fetch  her." 

Jardine  pulled  himself  up,  and  Jen 
nings  dropped  into  his  seat  beside  the 
table  on  which  lay  the  writing  materials. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked, 
for  Jardine  was  dragging  on  his  boots. 

' '  I'm  going  to  ride  over  to  Auger's. 
I  must  see  about  that  carload  we  are  to 
ship  to  St.  Joe,  Tuesday."  He  looked 
white  and  tired. 

"Are  you  ill?  You  look — queer, 
somehow." 

"Thanks — I'm  all  right.  I  believe 
it's  going  to  rain." 

It  did  rain  that  evening.  More  than 
that,  it  blew.  It  also  thundered  and 
lightened,  by  way  of  diversion.  After 
the  late  intense  heat,  the  wind,  rushing 
down  from  the  Dakotas,  was  penetrat 
ingly  cold.  An  acclimated  Nebraskan 


244  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

accepts  philosophically  such  sudden 
changes  of  weather  and  makes  shift  to 
avoid  their  most  disagreeable  features. 
But  Jennings,  plodding  into  town  to 
mail  the  letter  he  had  laboriously  copied, 
did  not  dream  of  seeking  shelter  when 
the  storm  broke.  He  battled  on,  safely 
consigned  his  letter,  then  hired  a  livery 
rig,  and  drove  back  to  his  shack.  He 
was  wet  to  the  skin,  and  chilled  from 
head  to  feet.  All  night  he  lay  with 
burning  brow,  icy  hands,  and  a  strange, 
spasmodic  pain  in  his  side.  His  man 
hurried  for  Jardine  at  dawn.  Jardine 
sent  immediately  to  the  county  seat 
for  a  physician,  and  then  hastened  to 
his  partner. 

1 '  Looks  like  pneumonia, "  the  doctor 
said,  when  he  came.  It  was  pneumo 
nia.  Jardine  did  all  for  Peter  that  one 
man  could  do  for  another.  He  devoted 
himself  to  him.  He  cabled  his  relatives. 
He  procured  the  best  nurse  to  be  had. 
But  during  the  week  that  followed  the 
sick  man  burned  and  writhed  in  fever, 
babbled  deliriously,  strove  to  cough, 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  245 

and  had  intervals  of  sanity  that  were 
more  painful  to  those  about  him  than 
were  his  periods  of  unconsciousness.  It 
was  during  one  of  these  intervals  that 
the  mail  was  handed  to  Jardine. 

' '  Look, "  Jennings  whispered.  ' '  See 
if  there  is  a  reply  from  her. "  Jardine 
started.  He  had  never  supposed  that 
Jennings  copied  and  mailed  the  letter 
the  day  it  was  written — the  evening  of 
the  stortn.  He  must  have  done  so  to 
expect  a  reply  now. 

"There !"  cried  Peter.  " I  see  it !  I 
can  get  the  perfume  of  violets.  Open 
it, "  he  begged. 

But  Jardine  hesitated,  the  unopened 
envelope  extended.  "Open  it!  Read 
it!"  Jennings  insisted.  "You  have 
known  the  rest.  You  may  as  well  know 
this.  What  is  her  answer?  What  does 
she  say?" 

Jardine  tore  off  the  envelope,  skimmed 
the  contents.  Then,  very  slowly,  he 
read  aloud: 

Dear  Mr.  Jennings-. — Your  letter,  which 
honors  me,  I  have  just  received.  I ," 


246  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

There  was  a  silence.  '  'Why, "  Peter 
murmured,  impatiently,  ' '  are  you  wait- 
ing?" 

"When  you  spoke  to  me  before  I  left  Ne 
braska,  I  could  not  answer  as  you  wished. 
Now " 

There  was  another  period  of  hesita 
tion. 

"Now — I  find  my  feelings  toward  you  have 
undergone  a  change.  I  look  forward  with 
happy  anticipation  to  meeting  you  again.  I 
shall  go  out  to  my  brother's  in  the  Fall.  I 
shall  say — nothing — more  definite  now.  So 

— until  we  meet 

Believe  me,  your  friend, 

IVERA   LYLE. 

The  sick  man's  face  was  transfigured. 

"How  happy  lam!"  he  cried.  "How 
happy!  And  I  owe  it  all  to  you,  dear 
boy — all  to  you!" 

These  were  the  last  intelligible  words 
he  ever  spoke.  When  the  dawn  crept 
in  like  a  thief  Peter  Jennings  was  dead. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"Why,  how  now  ?     Ho!  from  whence  ariseth  this?" 

—Othello. 

THEY  buried  the  young  Englishman 
on  the  Kansas  hill.  Jardine  sent 
copies  of  the  county  papers  containing 
mention  of  his  death  to  Miss  Lyle,  and 
to  his  parents.  He  forwarded  the  latter, 
also  a  draft  that  very  generously  covered 
Peter's  interest  in  the  ranch,  and  wrote 
them  a  long,  kindly,  comforting  letter. 
He  burned  the  private  papers  of  his 
friend  in  accordance  with  the  preference 
of  his  people.  He  burned,  too,  the  last 
letter  Ivera  Lyle  had  written  Jennings, 
but  not  before — feeling  traitorous,  but 
justified — he  had  re-read  it. 

Dear  Mr.  Jennings: — Your  letter,  which 
honors  me,  I  have  just  received.  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  strangely  it  affects  me.  When  you 
spoke  to  me  before  I  left  Nebraska,  I  could 
not  answer  as  you  wished — nor  can  I  now. 
247 


248  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

But  our  correspondence  has  been  so  full  of 
surprise  and  pleasure  I  find  my  feelings  to 
ward  you  have  undergone  a  change.  Your 
letters  have  made  me  happily  anticipate  meet 
ing  you  again.  I  shall  go  out  to  my  brother's 
in  the  Fall,  when  I  hope  our  very  cordial  intel 
lectual  sympathy  may  merge  into  personal 
friendship.  Believe  me,  if  my  heart  were 
mine  to  give  your  latest  letter  would  have 
won  it.  Your  friend,  IVERA  LYLE. 

There  was  a  terrible  drouth  that  year. 
Before  June  was  gone  the  corn  was 
doomed.  Day  after  day  the  horrible 
heat  prevailed — increased.  July  came 
in  with  skies  of  brass,  fierce,  scorching 
winds  blowing  up  from  the  south,  winds 
that  drove  fine,  white,  stinging  dust  in 
billows  before  them ;  winds  that  even  at 
night  did  not  cease,  but  shrieked  and 
whined,  and  mockingly  puffed  its  hot 
breath  in  the  faces  of  gasping  humanity. 
Men  looked  out  with  haggard  eyes  over 
the  land  they  had  plowed  and  planted 
and  saw  how,  with  each  day,  the  green 
ranks  were  becoming  more  dwarfed  and 
yellow.  The  creek  was  dry.  Cattle 
died  along  its  banks.  The  leaves  of 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  249 

the  oaks  and  cottonwoods  no  longer 
rustled — they  rattled.  Women  on  the 
farms  milked,  and  scrubbed,  and 
churned,  and  cooked,  and  economized. 
Men  hung  around  the  pool  room  and 
the  saloon,  and  blasphemed,  and  drank 
more  than  was  good  for  them,  and 
plodded  back  to  their  homes  in  the  yel 
low  evening  glare,  morose  and  irritable. 
Desperation  lived  in  many  hearts.  July 
was  almost  merged  in  August,  and  still 
no  merciful  rain  had  fallen.  Disease 
became  epidemic.  Fresh  meat  could 
not  be  procured.  Ice  was  an  unknown 
luxury.  The  dry  and  dewless  nights 
brought  no  relief.  Eldridge,  driving 
over  the  prairies  in  his  ramshackle 
buggy,  glancing  from  parched  sod  to 
pitiless  sky,  comprehending  all  the  hor 
ror  of  the  heat,  seeing  little  children  as 
surely  being  done  to  death  by  swarms 
of  flies  as  were  ever  honey-smeared, 
crucified  Chinese  malefactors,  decided 
— being  fortified  by  frequent  adminis 
trations  of  morphine — that  there  was  no 
God  in  heaven,  no  compassion  nor  su- 


250  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

preme  intelligence  anywhere.  He  was 
driving  up  from  Kansas  one  brazen, 
blowing  afternoon,  after  an  all-night 
siege  beside  a  sick  bed.  As  he  passed, 
he  glanced  in  at  the  lonely  little  grave 
yard  on  the  hill.  He  could  no  more 
refrain  from  doing  so,  when  he  came 
upon  it,  than  Eugene  Aram  could  leave 
unvisited  the  body  of  his  victim.  Re 
gardless  of  the  fact  that  a  precipitous 
descent  lay  ahead,  he  lashed  his  horse. 
The  animal  dashed  downward,  the  rick 
ety  buggy  lying  almost  across  his 
haunches.  As  Eldridge  swung  around 
a  curve  he  saw  that  there  was  a  vehicle 
ahead  of  him.  Still  farther  down  a 
bridge  spanned  the  dry  bed  of  the  creek. 
The  bridge  was  narrow,  and  was  un 
protected  at  the  sides. 

4 'Hi,  there!"  Eldridge  yelled  to  the 
man  ahead.  "Turn  out  there!  I 
can't." 

But  the  foremost  buggy  had  already 
rolled  on  the  bridge  when  the  doctor's 
uncontrollable  horse  bore  down  upon  it. 
There  was  a  crash — a  crackling  of  oaths. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  251 

The  driver  ahead  leaped  up,  whipped 
his  animal.  It  sprang  forward — none 
too  soon.  For  an  instant  both  buggies 
had  jolted  and  swayed  on  the  narrow 
bridge.  Only  the  quick  action  of  the 
first  driver  had  prevented  a  double  dis 
aster.  But  once  across  he  bounded 
from  the  buggy,  and,  choking  with  rage, 
confronted  the  man  who  had  so  nearly 
run  him  down. 

' '  Are  you  crazy  ?"  he  yelled,  grabbing 
the  rein  of  the  second  horse  near  the 
bit.  ' '  You're  crazy  or — oh,  it's  you,  is 
it?"  as  he  recognized  Eldridge.  "I 
might  have  known  only  a  drugged  fool 
would  have  done  such  a  rotten  trick. 
We'd  both  have  'been  over  the  edge  in 
another  second." 

"I  tried  to  stop  the  mare,  but  I 
couldn't  turn  her  out, "  growled  Eldridge. 
"Wait  a  minute,  Lyle.  I've  been 
wanting  to  see  you. "  He  got  out  of  his 
rig.  The  panting  horses  stood  still. 
"I  wish,"  Eldridge  went  on,  fumbling 
in  his  pocket,  ' '  if  you  know  where  Prior 
is,  you'd  send  him  this  roll.  He  gave 


252  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

it  to  me  before  he  left.  I've  been  think 
ing  it  over,  and  I  can't  keep  it.  I'm 
not  entitled  to  any  extra  money." 

Robert  Lyle  looked  at  him  blankly. 
"I  don't  know  what  you're  talking 
about,"  he  said. 

' '  Oh,  yes,  you  do.  I  admit  I  wasn't 
quite  myself  when  I  made  out  that  cer 
tificate,  but  I  believed  what  you  boys 
told  me.  I  thought  it  was  all  right." 

Lyle  knew  to  what  he  was  referring 
then.  "Well,  wasn't  it  all  right?"  he 
questioned,  savagely.  The  sun  blazed 
down  on  them.  The  white,  powdery 
dust  whirled  all  around  them  in  fluctu 
ant  waves  and  vanishing  spirals. 

' '  I  don't  know, "  Eldridge  answered, 
doubtfully.  "I  wish  to  God  I  did! 
When  Prior  handed  me  this  money, 
and  I  objected  to  taking  it,  he  said  in 
that  sneering,  little  impudent  way  of 
his:  'When  rich  knaves  have  need  of 
poor  ones,  poor  ones  may  make  what 
price  they  will!'  Then  I  heard  that 
your  sister  considered  there  was  some 
thing  wrong  in  the  manner  of  his  death. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  253 

I    don't   know   what    she    discovered, 
but—1 

"I  know.  She  discovered  that  the 
man  for  whom  you  issued  a  certificate 
of  death  is  no  more  dead  than  I  am!" 

"  Not  dead ! "  shrieked  Eldridge.  ' '  I 
saw  him  dead.  He  was  dead  when 
you  or  Prior — one  of  you — brought  me 
down  to  the  office  that  night.  I  didn't 
make  a  thorough  examination,  I  know. 
But  I  believed  what  I  was  told  about 
his  symptoms  and  so  on.  I  saw  that 
he  was  dead .  I  gave  you  boys  the  cer 
tificate  you  asked  for.  And  now  you 
tell  me  he  isn't  buried  on  that  hill  back 
there?" 

"I  mean  to  tell  you  he  isn't  buried 
anywhere. " 

' '  I've  always  thought  there  was  some 
deviltry  afloat  that  night,  but  I  could 
never  put  my  finger  on  the  nature  of  it. 
I  thought  afterward  that  maybe  you 
boys  had  some  motive  for  putting  him 
out  of  the  way." 
.  "Oh,  he's  out  of  the  way  all  right!" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 


254  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

The  tattered  corn  at  either  side  of 
the  road  rattled  in  a  mighty  surge  of 
hot  wind,  as  the  men  stood  in  the  white 
dust  and  looked  hard  at  each  other. 
It  was  like  breathing  flame  to  breathe 
the  air  that  enveloped  them.  The  ex 
citing  talk  had  gone  to  their  heads  like 
liquor.  Both  were  sick  and  dizzy. 

1 '  See  here, "  Rob  advised,  slowly  and 
insolently.  "You  stick  to  your  hypo 
dermic  syringe,  will  you,  and  leave 
other  people's  affairs  alone?" 

The  physician's  pale,  flabby  face  was 
twitching.  "I'm  not  denying  I've  got 
pretty  low  down,"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
that  quivered  with  self-scorn.  ' '  I  pay 
a  bitter  penalty,  God  knows!  But  I 
won't  willingly  be  accessory  to  a  crime. 
What  did  you  do  with  that  young  fel 
low?" 

Eldridge's  failure  to  resent  his  cruel 
taunt,  the  despairing  voice  in  which  he 
had  spoken,  a  sense  of  his  own  unman- 
liness,  overwhelmed  Rob  with  sudden 
shame  and  pity.  Impulsively  he  thrust 
his  hand  into  his  hip  pocket.  Before 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  255 

he  could  withdraw  it  Eldridge  had 
jerked  out  a  revolver  and  shot  him. 

Lyle  stood  erect  a  moment,  then 
toppled  forward  in  the  velvety  dust. 
The  letter  he  had  pulled  from  his  pocket, 
in  falling  dropped  from  his  nerveless 
hand.  His  horse,  frightened  by  the 
report  of  the  revolver,  was  tearing  to 
ward  town,  the  light  vehicle  rocking 
after  it.  Eldridge  stood  looking  stu 
pidly  down  on  his  victim.  A  letter! 
Was  that  what  he  reached  for  when  he 
put  his  hand  back  ?  The  doctor  picked 
it  up — read  it.  It  contained  an  answer 
to  the  question  he  had  just  asked  Lyle 
concerning  the  fate  of  Mark  Dudley. 

Eldridge  looked  wildly  around.  Men 
were  running  from  the  fields — from  the 
town.  He  slipped  the  letter  back  in 
Rob's  pocket.  People  came  hurrying 
up.  There  was  an  excited  outcry — a 
hurricane  of  questions.  Eldridge  had 
turned  Rob  over.  He  was  kneeling 
beside  him,  his  ringer  on  the  wrist  of 
the  prostrate  man. 

"He    isn't    dead!"   Eldridge    cried. 


256  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Thank  God  for  that.  Get  him  out 
of  the  sun  quick!" 

"You  shot  him!"  several  voices 
shouted. 

"Yes,  I  shot  him.  We  had  some 
words,  I  thought  he  was  going  to  pull 
a  gun.  I  acted,  as  I  supposed,  in  self- 
defense.  " 

A  litter  was  hastily  prepared.  The 
marshal,  who  had  been  bending  over 
Rob,  stood  up,  addressed  Eldridge. 

"Lyle  never  carried  a  gun.  He 
hasn't  one  now." 

"I  found  that  out  too  late.  I'll  go 
with  you,  Peters.  Bill  Hicks,  you  look 
after  my  horse,  like  a  good  fellow. 
What  in  thunder  are  you  all  staring 
about?  Why  don't  some  of  you  wire 
for  a  physician?"  A  brief  silence  fol 
lowed  the  indignant  outbreak.  Then 
a  thin  voice  yelped  maliciously:  "Why 
don't  you  tend  to  him  yourself?" 

"By  God,  I  will  if  you'll  let  me!" 
Eldridge  looked  toward  the  marshal. 

"Go  ahead!"  said  that  official.  The 
next  moment  the  doctor  was  down  in 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  257 

the  dust  beside  the  wounded  man,  nerv 
ously  unbuttoning  the  buttons  of  his 
coat  and  vest.  He  pulled  up  the  shirt, 
found  the  bullet  hole.  ' '  Hand  me  my 
bag!"  he  called.  Someone  took  it  out 
of  his  buggy  and  passed  it  to  him.  He 
worked  rapidly,  deftly.  He  probed, 
applied  saturated  lint,  bandaged. 
' 'There !  I  don't  think  he'll  die.  That 
will  depend  chiefly  on  the  care  he  gets. 
Better  take  him  out  on  the  farm,  though. 
That  hotel  isn't  fit  for  a  hog  to  live — or 
die,  in.  Wait  you,  Dan  Joyce!"  He 
had  taken  a  pad  from  his  pocket,  and 
was  scribbling  on  it  directions  and  pre 
scriptions.  ' '  See  about  these,  and  get 
Doc  Hayes  down  from  the  county  seat 
as  soon  as  you  can.  Until  he  comes 
follow  the  directions  I've  written,  and 
give  him  the  medicines.  Now,  Peters, 
I'll  go  with  you!"  He  and  the  mar 
shal  walked  off  together — the  rest  fol 
lowing.  Jardine  met  them. 

"We'll  take  him  out  to  my  place, 
boys, "  he  said.      ' '  I'll  take  care  of  him, 
and  I  can  do  it  more  conveniently  there. 
17 


258  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

I've  a  rig  ready  at  the  livery.  Hicks, 
you  go  out  to  Rob's  and  help  his  man 
look  after  the  stock.  I'll  be  responsi 
ble." 

He  stopped  a  minute  at  the  depot  to 
telegraph  to  Ivera  Lyle: 

"Rob   seriously,   but   not   fatally,  injured. 
Will  keep  you  informed  of  his  condition." 
"  JOHN  TREVOR  JARDINE." 

He  had  purposely  refrained  from  in 
ferring  that  she  should  come,  but  he 
watched  every  train  from  the  East  after 
it  was  reasonable  to  suppose  she  might 
arrive.  But  when  the  train  came  in  on 
the  evening  of  the  tenth  day,  and  she 
was  not  on  board,  he  gave  up  hope,  and 
went  back  to  the  shack  feeling  miser 
ably  depressed.  To  be  sure  she  had 
wired  for  particulars,  and  he  had  re 
plied,  and  had  written  her  a  daily  bulle 
tin  afterward.  He  had  tried  hard  to 
persuade  himself  that  he  was  not  hun 
grily  hoping  she  would  come.  Rob 
looked  up  at  him  when  he  entered. 

"  No  letter  from  Ive?" 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  259 

"No  letter." 

' '  It's  several  days  since  I  had  one. 
I've  had  a  sneaking  fancy  she  might 
come  out.  But  I  guess  she  won't.  I 
was  devilish  mean  to  her  when  she  was 
here.  Is  there  any  chance  of  rain?" 

Jardine  gave  a  short  laugh.  "You 
optimistic  idiot.  Does  it  ever  rain  in 
Nebraska?" 

Rob  moved  restlessly.  The  day  had 
been  long  and  hot.  He  was  weary  of 
pain  and  of  enforced  repose.  ' '  I  wish, " 
he  said,  his  voice  petulant  and  wistful 
as  a  child's,  ' '  I  wish  Ivera  would  come !" 
A  shadow  fell  across  the  bare  floor. 
There  was  a  faint  fragrance  in  the  room. 
Jardine  sprang  up,  his  pulses  throbbing 
madly.  A  slender  woman  was  stoop 
ing  over  Rob. 

' '  Ivera  has  come,  dear, "  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"Truly,  I  would  the  gods  had  made  thee  poetical." 

— As  You  Like  It. 

IT  was  August.  There  had  been  a  few 
futile  rains.  The  coming  of  these 
had  brought  a  glimmer  of  hope  for  the 
late  corn — their  lack  of  fulfillment  a 
fresh  despair.  A  bit  of  a  cloud  would 
come  up.  Men  and  women  held  their 
breath  while  they  watched  it.  Then 
there  was  a  damp  drift.  The  soil  was 
moistened.  A  few  hours  later  the  dust 
was  whirling  again,  and  the  sound  of 
the  corn,  as  the  wind  swept  it,  was 
harsher  than  before. 

' '  I  had  given  you  up  when  you  came, " 
Jack  said  to  Ivera  the  day  she  ar 
rived. 

"You  were  expecting  me,  then?" 
' '  Well,  not  exactly,  but  I  hung  around 
the  trains  from  the  East.    If  you  had 
260 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  261 

not  come  via  the  Santa  Fe  and  driven 
over,  I  should  surely  have  met  you." 

She  had  been  almost  two  weeks  at 
Jardine's  ranch.  He  had  betaken  him 
self  to  the  shack  Jennings  had  occupied. 
Several  of  Ivera's  former  acquaintances 
had  called.  One  of  these  visitors  was 
Mollie.  She  was  radiant  in  the  most 
tawdry  finery — blue  silk  gown,  yellow 
kid  gloves,  and  a  hat  adorned  with  a 
profusion  of  cotton  lace  rosettes  and 
purple  pink  roses. 

' '  I  like  to  come  work  for  you  here, " 
said  Mollie. 

Miss  Lyle  recollected  a  great  many 
things  all  at  once.  ' '  Oh,  no — not  here. 
You  are  very  fine,  Mollie." 

Mollie  cast  a  complacent  eye  upon 
her  gown. 

' '  Yes, "  she  agreed,  in  a  satisfied  tone. 
"Henry — he  buy  me  all." 

1 '  Henry  ?    What  is  his  other  name  ?  " 

"I  never  hear  any  other  name," 
Mollie  replied,  indifferently.  "Folks 
call  him  Dutch  Henry." 

' '  Well,  what  is  Dutch  Henry  to  you  ?" 


262  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"Him's  my  husband,"  said  Mollie. 

"Mollie,  you  are  married?" 

Mollie  nodded,  "Most  a  month.  Him 
good  section  hand.  Him  got  money 
saved  up.  Him  give  me  all  him  got,  so 
I  marry  him.  I  buy  lots  of  clothes.  I 
trade  for  bracelet — see  bracelet!"  She 
held  out  her  arm.  The  thick,  red  wrist 
was  encircled  by  a  heavy  band  of  rolled 
gold. 
•  "Where  did  you  get  that,  Mollie?" 

A  gratified  smile  passed  over  Mollie's 
rosy  face.  "Made  good  trade  for  it. 
Traded  to  Mary  Cheropsky." 

"What  did  you  trade  for  it?" 

' '  Plate  an'  handles  off  baby  coffin, " 
returned  the  bride  of  Dutch  Henry, 
cheerfully.  It  was  a  scorching  noontide. 
The  little  room  in  which  they  sat  was 
darkened.  In  the  dim  light,  Mollie, 
sumptuously  proportioned  and  brightly 
gowned,  was  a  striking  figure. 

' '  I  should  not  think  you  would  like  a 
stranger  to  have  those, "  Miss  Lyle  said. 
"You  were  anxious  to  get  them,  I  re 
member,  to  remind  you  of  your  baby." 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  263 

Mollie  twisted  the  gaudy  ornament 
on  her  wrist.  ' '  I  know,  but  I  got  tired 
them.  Him  never  well  baby.  Dutch 
Henry  say  better  little  Mark  die." 

Ivera  Lyle  caught  her  breath. 

' '  Mark !  Was  that  the  baby's  name  ? 
Why — why — "  She  choked  up  and 
could  utter  no  further  word. 

"Him  called  after  him  father,"  said 
Mollie. 

Ivera  trembled  to  her  feet.  A  cry 
broke  faintly  from  her  lips.  ' '  But  you 
said—" 

Mollie  laughed  pleasantly.  "I  did 
say  that  morning  when  I  leave,  I  not 
want  him  to  love  you.  It  make  me  mad, 
then.  Now,  I  not  care.  I  got  Henry. 
You  think  I  mean  Mr.  Jardine.  I  say 
yes,  for  I  not  want  you  know  about  Mark 
Dudley.  Mr.  Jardine  give  me  money 
never  let  you  know  about  him.  He  say 
it  make  you  feel  bad  to  know.  Do  you 
feel  bad?" 

"Go,"  Ivera  besought  her  in  a  low 
voice.  "Go,  Mollie." 

Jack  Jardine,  stepping  upon  the  porch, 


264  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

heard  the  entreaty.  His  glance  went 
swiftly  from  one  woman  to  the  other. 
Mollie  smiled  broadly  at  him  in  all  the 
arrogance  of  her  ignorance. 

'  'I  work  here  cheap, "  she  said,  ' '  while 
Henry  off  on  new  road,  but  Miss  Lyle 
her  not  want  -me." 

Jardine  motioned  to  the  door. 

With  a  toss  of  her  berosed  head  and  a 
swish  of  her  skirts  Mollie  disappeared. 
Ivera  sank  down  on  a  chair.  Jardine 
went  up  to  her. 

"Was  she  annoying  you?"  he  asked. 

She  strove  to  smile  indifferently  up 
at  him,  but  in  the  same  minute  she  had 
turned  her  head  away,  and  was  crying 
softly.  His  face  reddened  through  all 
its  tan  as  he  looked  down  on  her.  He 
could  see  the  ruffled  tawny  hair,  the 
edge  of  a  pink  ear,  the  slender  waist. 

"Don't,  he  implored,  "let  anything 
that  creature  could  say  grieve  you." 

"You  don't  know  how  I  have  mis 
judged  you." 

' '  Never  mind  about  that. " 

"Ah,  but  I  must,"  she   murmured, 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  265 

with  quivering  lips.  ' '  You  can't  under 
stand  what — what  I  thought." 

"Perhaps  I  can.  If  you  insist  on 
deeming  yourself  a  sinner,  here  is  your 
penance — and  absolution. " 

He  bent  and  his  lips  lightly  touched 
her  soft  hair.  Then  he  was  out  of  the 
house,  on  horseback,  and  riding  rapidly 
away. 

"You  must  make  haste  and  get 
strong,"  Ivera  said  to  Rob,  as  she  sat 
beside  him  that  night.  "We  can't 
stay  here  longer.  We  have  crowded 
Mr.  Jardine  out  of  his  own  house.  I 
understand  you  have  sold  out  of  the 
grain  business.  You  shall  make  ar 
rangements  to  leave  the  farm  in  the 
hands  of  some  persons  you  can  trust. 
You  and  I  will  go  back  to  Illinois.  The 
lake  breezes  will  soon  make  you  my 
own  strong  boy  again.  I  came  as  soon 
as  I  could.  I  was  dreadfully  afraid  you 
were  going  to  die,  Rob." 

' '  I  came  pretty  close  to  it,  dear.  I've 
had  time  enough  to  think  while  I  have 
been  lying  here, — and — I'm  not  a  pray- 


266  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

ing  fellow,  you  know,  but  I  do  believe 
in  God  Almighty — I  promised  Him  if  I 
recovered  I'd  make  a  clean  breast  about 
Mark.  Will  you  listen  now?" 

For  the  first  time  she  turned  coward. 
"In  a  little  while,"  she  said.  She 
walked  to  the  door  of  the  shack,  and 
out  into  the  white,  hot  night.  The  wind 
had  gone  down.  The  plains  stretched 
away,  boundless  and  mysterious.  The 
sky,  frigated  with  whitish  clouds, 
loomed  low  and  light.  Between  these 
crept  the  silence,  the  awful,  oppressive, 
overwheming  silence  of  the  prairies.  It 
seemed  to  close  around  the  girl  stand 
ing  there  in  gigantic  coils  that  crushed 
out  individuality — almost  extinguished 
identity.  An  impulse  to  scream  as  if 
in  a  nightmare  frenzy — anything  to 
break  the  spell,  came  to  her.  She  said 
something  on  the  subject  to  Rob  when 
she  went  back  to  the  little  lighted  room. 

"Yes,"  he  declared,  "the  silence  is 
damnable.  I  don't  feel  such  things  as 
acutely  as  you  do,  but  it  has  hurt  me 
many  a  time.  When  I  was  in  New 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  267 

Orleans  I  saw  a  mob  drag  along  Tchou- 
pitoulas  street  a  nigger  whom  they 
were  going  to  lynch.  The  screeching 
of  the  victim  and  the  hooting  of  the 
rabble  were  the  most  atrocious  sounds 
I  ever  heard.  I  put  my  hands  over  my 
ears  to  keep  them  out.  Since  I've 
lived  on  the  plains,  I  find  there  is  one 
thing  worse  than  any  sound,  and  that 
is  silence." 

' '  We  ought  to  rejoice  in  the  sacred- 
ness  of  this  desolate  world.  We  ought 
to  find  charm  in  its  aloofness — its  se 
renity.  " 

"Well,  we  don't.  No  one  who  lives 
their  lives  out  here  can  do  anything  of 
the  sort.  The  only  people  who  associ 
ate  solitude,  romance  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing  with  the  plains  are  those  who  write 
about  them  without  having  had  any  per 
sonal  experience.  You  have  seen  and 
studied  Western  women — those  of  the 
small  towns  and  farms,  I  mean.  The 
young  women  are  sometimes  pretty, 
generally  vulgar,  always  foolish.  The 
middle-aged  women  are  the  old  women 


268  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

— a  set  of  drab-colored,  toothless,  petty- 
minded  old  crones. 

"I  know  that  sounds  hard,  but  it 
is  true.  There  are  no  old  people. 
There  are  many  prematurely  old.  I 
took  Mollie's  mother  to  be  seventy, 
at  least,  and  Mollie  told  me  she  was 
younger  than  that  handsome  brigand, 
her  husband,  and  had  a  baby  about  the 
age  of  Mollie's  own." 

' '  Bohemian  women  age  rapidly. " 

"All  women  age  rapidly  out  here. 
There  is  the  unceasing  work,  the  wind, 
the  heat,  the  dust  storms.  There  is 
absolutely  no  mental  activity." 

"Dear  child,  what  would  they  do 
with  mental  activity?" 

"Don't  laugh,  Rob.  They  have 
time  to  talk  together,  but  the  conversa 
tion,  God  save  the  mark!  is  always  of 
the  short  comings  of  their  acquaint 
ances,  or  patchwork,  or  carpet  rags. 
One  wpman  said  to  me:  'I  pieced 
four  quilts  last  winter.  When  I  got 
them  done  I  patched  another  with  the 
pieces  that  was  left  after  piecin'  the 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  269 

others.  There  was  two  hundred  blocks 
in  this,  an'  every  block  had  fifty  pieces 
in  it,  an'  they  wasn't  no  block  bigger'n 
a  cent.'  Think  of  that. " 

"I'd  rather  not!"  laughed  Rob. 

They  were  silent.  Both  knew  they 
had  been  talking  against  time.  Ivera 
looked  around  the  little  whitewashed 
room,  in  one  corner  of  which  a  glass 
lamp  burned,  and  then  back  to  the  bed 
with  its  gay  covering  of  a  striped  Eng 
lish  blanket,  the  vividness  of  which  ac 
centuated  the  pallor  of  the  face  upon 
the  pillow.  Their  eyes  met. 

1 '  Dear, "  she  said,  ' '  tell  me  now. " 

He  told  her,  his  nervous  fingers 
touching  the  airy  folds  of  her  summer 
gown  that  had  drifted  within  his  reach. 
Ten — fifteen — twenty  minutes.  It  was 
told.  She  had  not  stirred  nor  spoken. 

' '  The  letter  that  I  was  about  to  show 
to  Eldridge  when  he  misconstrued  the 
motion  I  made,  is  in  the  pocket  of  my 
coat  over  there.  It  is  the  last  letter 
Jardine  received  from  the  physician." 

She  stood  up,  found  the  letter — read 


270  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

it.  She  came  back  and  sat  down  at 
the  bedside.  She  was  white  as  her 
gown.  Rob's  eyes,  shrinking  and  be 
seeching,  were  fastened  on  her  face. 

"I  would  never  have  had  anything 
to  do  with  it,  Ive,"  he  asserted,  pite- 
ously,  "if  I'd  supposed  there  was  any 
real  danger.  I  wonder  if  you  can  ever 
forgive  me?" 

"You  know  I  love  you."  Then  her 
eyes  brimmed  over. 

"But," — there  was  a  catch  in  his 
voice  —  "I  don't  deserve  your  love, 
dear." 

"If  that  is  really  so,  you  need  it  all 
the  more." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"I  pray  thee,  let  us  go  and  find  him  out." 

— The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

'"PHEY  were  sitting  out  on  the  porch — 
1  Rob,  pale  and  handsome  in  his  in 
teresting  role  of  convalescent,  Ivera,  with 
all  her  bright  hair  unbound  over  a  gown 
that  was  blue  and  misty.  She  held  a 
little  morocco  covered  book.  The  lines 
she  read  would  have  been  almost  unin 
telligible  when  Rob  claimed  the  diary. 
They  were  lucid  and  full  of  interest  now: 

July  10. — "  Hang  the  luck!  Must  buy 
M.  C.  off  some  way  if  I  am  to  bring  I.  here. 

July  20. — Great  scheme  of  Prior's.  Sounds 
a  bit  risky,  though. 

August  3. — Seems  safe  enough.  Have  in 
sured  in  their  favor — Prior's,  rather. 

August  6. — That  damned  saint  of  a  Jardine 
suspects  something.  I'm  rattled.  I'll  have 
to  let  old  rye  alone  a  while,  I  guess. 

August  14. — Jardine  caught  on,  confound 
271 


272  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

him.  Forced  to  postpone  plan.  A  desperate 
game,  but  the  tests  worked  all  right. 

August  27. — Played  it  slick  on  old  Eldridge. 
Sore  throat.  Cardiac  suffering — general  ill 
ness.  Must  burn  this  book  before — 

August  30. — Prior  says  now  that  that 
preaching  Jardine  has  gone  East  is  the  time 
to  risk  it.  So  one  of  these  nights — Great 
Scott!  if  Prior  should  prove  to  be  a  fool  or  a 
scoundrel!" 

"Up?"  cried  a  familiar  voice. 
"That's  good." 

Jardine  dropped  off  his  horse,  and 
lounged  toward  the  doorway. 

Ivera  retreated  at  sight  of  him. 

"Jack— I've  told  her!" 

Jardine's  face  took  on  a  certain  ri 
gidity,  and  his  lips  shut  firm  and  tight. 
Then  he  asked :  ' '  How  did  she  bear 
it?"  But  at  the  same  instant  he  lifted 
his  hand.  "Don't  tell  me!  I  am  sure 
she  endured  as  she  ventured — '  Like  a 
gallant  lady. "' 

Rob  nodded,  looking  out  with  wet 
eyes  across  the  withered  world. 

' '  She  will  not  be  satisfied  until  she 
has  seen  him, "  he  said. 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  273 

"I  can  understand  how  she  feels 
about  that.  I  will  take  her  whenever 
you  may  be  left  alone." 

' '  Never  mind  me.  Saunders  can  at 
tend  to  me.  Take  her,  and  get  the 
final  torture  over.  Why  can't  you  go 
to-morrow?" 

So  it  was  agreed  they  should  leave 
the  following  morning.  "It  will  be  a 
long  drive, "  Jardine  had  said,  ' '  twenty- 
four  miles  from  here  to  the  town  in 
Kansas  where  we  take  the  train." 

They  drove  across  the  prairies  in  the 
exultance  of  the  sunrise.  "We  must 
pass  through  Bubble,"  Jardine  said  to 
Ivera.  ' '  Won't  you  stop  a  few  minutes 
to  see  Mrs.  Me?" 

"It  is  so  early!" 

"Not  for  her." 

They  found  the  old  lady  sitting  on 
her  back  steps.  Involuntary  deference 
to  conventionality  induced  her  to  tuck 
her  bare  feet  under  her  calico  wrapper 
when  Ivera  appeared.  The  gown  was 
open  at  the  neck,  and  the  strong,  brown, 
withered  old  throat  showed  in  the  gap. 

18 


274  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

"MorninT  she  said,  affably.  "I 
heerd  you  was  out  here  again,  an'  I 
kep'  a-wonderin'  ef  you'd  come  see  me. 
I'd  have  gone  to  see  you  ef  them  legs 
of  mine  'ud  only  let  me.  Rob  Lyle's 
gittin'  better,  ain't  he  ?  I  never  see  such 
a  man  fur  gettin'  better.  They  can't  do 
a  thing  to  Eldridge — more's  the  pity!" 

' '  I  hope  Mr.  McLelland  is  well. " 

' '  Oh,  he's  well  enough,  but  he's  wor 
rited.  Business  is  slack,  though  we  did 
think  it  would  pick  up  after  the  water 
got  low  in  the  wells.  Pa  don't  git  his 
coffings  from  St.  Joe  no  more. " 

"No?" 

"No,  the  glass  he  used  to  git  from 
there  was  that  streaky  he  hadn't  the 
stability  to  look  a  deceased  in  the  face 
through  it.  It  took  a  whole  nickel's 
worth  of  alcohol  to  clean  one  glass  in 
them  coffings.  'Pa,'  I  says  to  him, 
'don't  you  let  nobody  become  conta 
gious  of  the  fact  that  you  use  alcohol 
for  that  purpose.  S'posin', '  I  says,  '  a 
dead  prohibitionist  should  come  to  you 
foracoffing?'" 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  275 

' '  That  would  be  embarrassing.  But 
Mr.  McLelland  is  so  clever,  I  am  sure 
he  would  find  a  way  out  of  even  such  a 
dilemma  as  that." 

She  laughed — a  complacent  and  unc 
tuous  laugh,  that  ended  in  a  gurgle 
deep  down  in  her  capacious  bosom. 
"Yes,  there  ain't  nothin'  stupid  about 
Pa  or  me.  Pa  says  I'm  a  heap  smart- 
er'n  him,  but  then  I  don't  never  take 
stock  in  a  man  praisin'  his  wife — 'spe 
cially  when  it's  fur  bein'  economical. 
The  praise  only  means  that  he'll  think 
more  of  her  ef  she  gits  even  economicler. 
I  done  a  heap  fur  Pa.  I  ain't  spent  a 
dime  fur  twenty  year  I  didn't  look  at 
twice.  I  saved  fur  him,  an'  raised  chick- 
ings  an'  turkeys,  an'  ain't  had  but  two 
wool  dresses  to  my  back  in  all  that 
time — -"never  a  silk  one  in  the  hull  thirty 
year,  an'  only  onct  a  pair  of  kid  gloves. " 

She  stopped,  looking  out  dreamily 
over  the  yellow  roofs  rising  around. 

"Mr.  McLelland  must  be  proud  of 
you, "  Ivera  ventured. 

"Oh,  he  air.     Pa  'lows  he  wouldn't 


276  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

be  fixed  like  he  is  ef  it  wasn't  fur  me. 
He  says  he  couldn't  have  bought  out 
the  undertakin'  of  Mahasby  fur  ten  year 
to  come,  ef  it  warn't  fur  the  way  I  rus 
tled  and  saved.  His  first  wife  she  was 
only  a  bit  of  a  girl — friv'lous,  I  jedge, 
as  they  make  'em.  She  allus  had  pretty 
clothes,  an'  they  say  she  could  sing 
sweeter'n  any  bird.  But  she  couldn't 
cook  none  to  speak  on,  an'  she  never 
saved  a  carpet  rag,  or  pieced  a  quilt. 
She  was  jest  fearful  friv'lous — Annie 
was. " 

Ivera  scarcely  knew  what  was  ex 
pected  of  her.  She  was  silent. 

1 '  Yes, "  the  old  lady  proceeded,  ' '  Pa 
sets  a  heap  by  me.  But  somehow, 
when  he  talks  nights — some  folks  does 
you  know — I  ain't  ever  heerd  him  pro 
pitiate  my  name." 

"Yes?"  very  gently. 

The  old  eyes  were  blinking  fast. 

"It's  allus  her'n.  Seems  like  he 
keeps  a-dreamin'  of  that  little  thing  that 
was  berrid  with  her  baby  when  she 
wasn't  but  nineteen  come  her  next  birth- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  277 

day.  'Tain't  reel  satisfactory  after 
you've  been  layin'  down  by  the  side  of 
a  man  fur  mor'n  thirty  year  to  have 
him  stir  an'  call  you  Annie  when  your 
given  name's  Maria." 

Jardine  pointed  out  with  his  whip 
the  scattered  dwellings  as  they  drove 
south  in  Kansas. 

' '  Those  bake  ovens  are  bad  enough 
for  any  woman  to  spend  her  days  in, " 
he  said,  ' '  but  for  some  women  they  are 
worse  than  for  others.  I  have  known 
instances  where  women  have  come  out 
here  who  were  no  more  fitted  to  endure 
the  isolation,  the  intellectual  poverty, 
the  grinding  routine  of  ignoble  tasks, 
than  a  blooded  racer  is  fitted  for  the 
plowshare.  And  yet,  in  a  way,  such 
a  woman  as  one  of  these  makes  the 
most  magnificent  success  of  her  life. 
Hardy  says  in  one  of  his  earlier  novels 
that  when  a  strong  woman  deliberately 
throws  away  her  strength  she  is  weaker 
than  a  woman  who  has  never  had  any 
strength  to  throw  away.  I  don't  know 
if  I  make  myself  understood  when  I 


278  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

speak  of  such  a  woman  as  being  lofty 
enough  to  submit,  strong  enough  to  sur 
render,  passionate  enough  to  be  silent." 

"I  understand." 

' '  I  am  sure  you  do.  It  was  all  excel 
lent  while  the  first  excitement — the  first 
enthusiasm  lasted.  But  it  seemed  after 
a  while  as  if  something  gave  way — men 
tally  or  physically.  No  one  who  has  not 
given  up  the  thing  they  love  sublimely 
— art,  music,  literature,  sympathy,  con 
genial  companionship,  as  the  case  may 
be — can  offer  any  reason  for  the  break 
down.  Therefore  they  say ' — he  pulled 
himself  up — 'why  daub  ourselves  by 
seeking  roots  for  nettles  ?' " 

Driving  along  the  high,  level  land  in 
Northern  Kansas  they  fell  to  talking  of 
Mark  Dudley. 

"I  suspected  the  boys  were  up  to 
some  scheme,  but  how  dangerous  I  did 
not  know  until,  coming  in  unexpectedly 
one  night,  I  found  Mark  rigid — appar 
ently  lifeless.  Prior  and  Rob  laughed 
at  me,  and  insisted  he  would  be  all  right 
in  a  few  hours.  Soon  after  he  was  as 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  279 

well  as  ever.  I  had  known  that  Dudley 
had  insured  his  life  for  Prior,  who  was 
to  divide  with  Rob.  The  reason  for 
that  singular  transaction  was  then  made 
clear  to  me.  Prior  knew  only  enough 
of  chemistry  to  make  it  a  deadly  power 
in  his  hands.  When  I  taxed  them  with 
the  discovery  of  their  reckless  plan  they 
admitted,  but  promised  to  abandon  it. 
About  that  time  I  was  called  East. 
When  I  returned  I  let  myself  into  the 
office  with  a  key  I  always  carried,  often 
being  detained  late  in  town.  The  scene 
I  saw  you  witnessed  as  plainly  as  I  did. 
The  blinds  were  down.  Mark  lay  like 
a  corpse  on  the  lounge.  In  the  rear  of 
the  office  Prior  was  filling  the  bag  which 
was  to  occupy  the  coffin.  Rob  knew 
that  the  test  was  to  be  made  that  night, 
but  he  was  not  then  present.  I  raged 
when  I  learned  that  this  trance  was  to 
last  twenty  hours." 

' '  Why  did  you  not  insist — " 
"I  tried  to,  but  Prior's  apparent  con 
trol  of  the  situation,  as  well  as  his  knowl 
edge  of  its  cause,  were  too  much  for  me. 


280  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

It  seemed  that  he,  Rob  and  Mark  had 
gone  into  this  as  the  easiest  way  of  rais 
ing  money.  Prior  had  proven  by  ex 
periments  that  he  could  place  Mark  in 
this  condition  so  closely  simulating 
death,  and  later  revive  him.  He  was 
to  be  spirited  out  of  the  state  and  the 
insurance  money  divided.  Later,  he 
could  concoct,  for  the  benefit  of  those 
who  knew  him  in  the  East,  any  fairy 
tale  to  suit  the  occasion." 

' '  But  if  you  had  called  a  physician — 
attempted  resuscitation  ?  " 

"There  was  no  medical  man  nearer 
than  twenty  miles — except  Eldridge. 
You  know  what  he  is.  Prior  declared 
that  to  make  any  attempt  before  a  cer 
tain  time  to  restore  consciousness  would 
fail  of  effect.  I  persisted.  He  evi 
dently  made  a  sincere  effort.  It  was  a 
failure,  He  was  so  confident  that  later 
his  attempts  would  be  successful  he  al 
most  persuaded  me.  'No  doctor,'  he 
vowed,  'can  handle  this  case  intelli 
gently.  I  know  how  I  put  him  in  such  a 
condition.  I  know  how  I  can  bring  him 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  281 

out  of  it.  But  I  must  have  the  full 
time  on  which  I  reckoned.  To-night 
I  shall  inject  a  dose  of  the  restorative 
fluid,  and  use  other  means  to  bring  him 
to  life.  My  methods  shall  prove  as 
efficacious  then  as  they  have  formerly. ' ' 

' '  He  really  believed  in  the  harmless- 
ness  of  his  experiment?" 

"As  far  as  most  fanatics  do.  He 
cared  little  when  he  discovered  his  fail 
ure.  All  the  time  the  funeral  was  wind 
ing  up  the  hill,  I  knew  that  the  body  of 
the  man  whom  all  but  two  of  those 
present  fancied  they  were  interring,  lay 
stark  on  a  bed  in  the  little  room  of  the 
office." 

The  horrible  heat  of  the  day  was  be 
ginning,  but  the  girl  sitting  next  to 
Jardine  shivered  as  if  with  cold. 

' '  That  night  Prior  hypodermically  in 
jected  the  fluid.  It  produced  no  effect. 
Again  and  again  the  needle  punctured 
the  flesh  of  the  man,  who  was,  to  all 
appearances,  dead.  At  last  we  imag 
ined  we  detected  a  quiver  of  the  limbs. 
His  eyes  blazing,  his  hands  shaking, 


282  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Prior  once  more  pressed  in  the  potent 
needle.  He  withdrew  it — plunged  it 
again  into  the  fluid  that  was  to  recall 
life.  'The  lids  moved!'  he  gasped.  I 
pried  open  the  clenched  teeth — poured 
stimulants  down.  A  galvanic  life  ran 
through  the  frame.  Then — then — it  sat 
erect,  and  looked  at  us  with — the  eyes 
of  a  madman!" 

Neither  spoke  for  a  minute  or  so. 
Then  Ivera  Lyle  said:  "Go  on!" 

"I'm  afraid  some  of  this  is  repeti 
tion.  I  don't  know  how  explicitly  Rob 
has  told  you  the  story  of  it  all.  I  knew 
only  expert  skill  could  restore  reason. 
I  got  a  rig.  We  lifted  him  in.  By  the 
way,  just  outside  town  Moll  Chourka 
stopped  me.  The  lantern  I  carried 
made  her  suppose  the  doctor — for  whom 
she  was  looking — was  in  the  buggy. 
She  recognized  Mark,  and  spoke  of  the 
fact  to  me  later.  I  drove  eighteen  miles 
through  the  night  with  that  senseless, 
gibbering  thing  beside  me." 

That  night  Ivera  Lyle  and  Jack  Jar- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  283 

dine  stood  together  at  the  bedside  of 
a  dying  man.  *• 

"You  are  only  in  time, "  the  physician 
said. 

Ivera  looked  sadly  down  on  the  face 
she  had  held  dear.  Lack  of  intelligence 
was  its  least  fault.  It  bore  lines  of 
dissipation — of  vice.  But  suddenly  it 
was  beautiful. 

' '  Ivera !  You  have  come !  I  have  tried 
so  hard  to  remember.  I  know  now. 
You  too,  Jack!  I  wish  I'd  taken  your 
advice,  old  fellow!  I  called  you  Ivera — 
I  called  out  to  you  to  help  me.  Hi!" 
with  a  shout,  "drive  up  on  that  scale 
there!  Fourteen  hundred  and  fifty! 
Oats?  Oats  thirty  cents.  I  can't  marry 
you,  Mollie.  Yes,  you're  just  as  pretty 
as  the  girl  back  East,  but  that  ain't  it — 
I—" 

He  sprang  up  in  bed.  Attendants 
moved  forward.  Jardine  offered  Ivera 
his  arm.  "Come!"  he  whispered. 

"Yes,"  seconded  the  doctor,  "go! 
Even  this  gleam  of  consciousness  is  un 
usual.  He  will  recognize  no  one  again. " 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  There's  beggary  in  the  love  that  can  be  reckoned!" 
— Anthony  and  Cleopatra. 

IT  was  the  day  before  the  Lyles  were 
to  go  East.  Ivera  had  been  from 
the  farm  to  the  ranch  and  back  again, 
intent  on  many  matters.  Rob  was  will 
ing  to  leave  all  the  preparations  for 
departure  to  her.  His  was  a  leaning 
nature,  and  he  sweetly  allowed  those 
who  wished  to  bear  his  burdens  the 
privilege  of  doing  so. 

The  hot,  windy  September  day  was 
nearing  a  close  when  the  girl  found 
herself  in  town.  The  glare  was  blind 
ing.  The  heat  was  the  heat  of  a  fur 
nace.  The  driven  dust  circled  and 
swirled,  and  powdered  one's  garments, 
and  stung  the  flesh  like  burning  needles. 
Several  of  the  men  lounging  in  the 
shade  of  the  lumber-yard  office  looked 

after  her. 

284 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  285 

''Coin'  back  East,  they  say." 

"She's  in  great  luck." 

' '  Luckier  fur  him.  Rob  was  drinkin' 
himself  to  death  when  she  come!" 

"She  weren't  made  fur  here,  nohow." 

"I  dunno,"  said  the  crippled  cob 
bler,  "what  was  made  fur  here  any 
how,  except  gophers  and  jack  rabbits." 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  the  agent, 
expectorating  with  much  accuracy  of 
aim,  "it  was  a  cruel  wrong  to  us  when 
this  country  was  taken  from  the  In 
dians.  Now,  I  vote  it  be  left  to  the 
Bohemians.  They're  the  only  folks 
who  can  live  here  and  retain  any  fear  of 
hell." 

"Ain't  you  got  any,  Colonel?" 

"Not  now.     I'm  acclimated." 

Ivera  was  on  her  way  to  visit  some 
children  in  whom  she  was  interested, 
when  a  huge,  panting  form  barred  her 
way. 

' '  I  seen  you  drive  past, "  puffed  Mrs. 
McLelland,  "so  I  put  my  shoes  on  an' 
my  teeth  in,  an'  come  to  bid  you  adoo. " 

Ivera,  looking  aggravatingly  cool  and 


286  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

prodigiously  pretty,  smiled  frankly  up 
at  her. 

' '  It  is  very  kind  of  you.  I  shall  often 
think  of  you." 

"I'll  think  of  you,  too.  Lots  of  us 
will  keep  on  doin'  that.  But  I'm  glad 
you're  goin'  fur  your  own  sake.  Land ! 
when  I  think  of  the  time  I  lived  only 
a  hundred  an'  twenty  mile  from  Chi 
cago!  It's  a  good  thing  to  git  out'n 
Nebraska  before  you're  carried  out. 
That's  what  I  say.  Not  that  I  ought 
to  complain  at  present.  Business  is 
spry  now,  but  it  has  its  ameliorations. " 

"Yes?" 

' '  Yes, "  mournfully.  ' '  There  was  Pa, 
give  the  most  attractive  coffing  he  had 
in  stock  to  the  Stivers  when  their  baby 
died — give  it  fur  only  three  dollars  an' 
seventy  cents  profit  because  it  had  been 
in  stock  a  long  time,  the  infant  it  had 
been  bought  fur  original  havin'  been 
took  away  from  here  by  its  parents  be 
fore  it  got  time  to  die,  an'  surrenderin' 
its  mortal  breath  in  lowy.  Well,  Pa  went 
in  to  collect  from  Stiver — who's  the 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  287 

druggist,  you  know.  An'  Pa  told  him 
how  cheap  he  let  him  have  it  at  twenty- 
one  dollar,  seein'  the  wood  was  a  bit 
chipped  an'  the  linin'  somewhat  fly- 
specked.  Stiver  paid  Pa,  an'  Pa  he 
says,  '  Seein'  you  got  a  bargain,  I  think 
you  ought  to  set  up  the  sody  water.' 
An'  would  you  believe  it,  that  man  says 
reel  sharp,  'I  don't  set  up  the  sody 
water  on  a  dead  baby!'  Think  of  that 
fur  gratitood,  now ! " 

"Dear!  Dear!"  said  Ivera. 

' '  I  knowed  you'd  see  the  meanness  of 
the  man.  I  tell  you  what,  this  weather 
is  awful  promiscuous  on  a  body.  It 
pretty  near  dilapidates  me." 

' '  You  are  not  looking  very  well. " 

' '  I  ain't  well.  I  had  the  doctor  yis- 
tiday.  I've  needed  doctorin'  fur  nigh 
onto  seven  year,  but  I  wouldn't  pay  the 
price.  The  trouble  seemed  to  be  with 
them  legs  of  mine,  an'  I  says  to  Pa, 
'  I  despise  the  idea  of  payin'  any  man 
a  dollar  to  look  at  my  lower  conform 
ities.  '  But  at  last  I  did,  an'  he  says  to 
me,  '  It's  dropsy  or  Bright's  disease.  I 


288  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

can't  tell  rightly  which  yet.'  I  tell  you 
it  made  me  feel  good  to  know  there 
was  something  reel  bad  the  matter 
with  me,  after  I'd  gone  to  the  expense  of 
sending  fur  him." 

Ivera  looked  rather  surprised,  and  her 
lips  dimpled  in  at  the  corners. 

' '  Well,  good-bye, "  said  the  old  lady. 
''Come  out  to  see  us  if  you  git  to 
feelin'  bad." 

"The  climate  might  help  me?" 

"Yes,  an'  ef  it  didn't  me  an'  Pa 
'ud  be  your  friends,  an'  see  that  every 
thing  was  done  decent  fur  you. "  With 
which  ambiguous  promise  she  lumbered 
away. 

The  starless,  stirless  dusk  was  every 
where  when  Ivera  walked  up  on  the 
hill.  Without  a  glance  she  passed  the 
headstone  erected  to  the  memory  of 
Mark  Dudley,  and  went  to  the  grave 
where  Peter  Jennings  slept.  When 
she  rose  to  her  feet  a  tall  figure  stood 
beside  her. 

"I  fancied  I  might  find  you  here," 
said  Jack  Jardine.  They  were  descend- 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  289 

ing  the  hill  together.  ' '  He  was  a  good 
fellow, "  said  Jardine. 

"Yes,"  she  assented  eagerly,  •" and 
one  who  had  not  read  his  letters  could 
not  understand  what  a  scholarly,  poetic, 
charming  character  was  his." 

Jack  murmured  a  word  of  surprise. 

"Oh,  indeed  yes!  He  wrote  to  me, 
and  I  found  his  letters  delightful.  I 
have  never  met  anyone  whose  ideas 
were  so  wholly  mine.  He  was  con 
genial  in  all  his  moods.  I  have  kept 
his  letters.  Sometime  you  may  like  to 
read  them." 

"I  should — I  assure  you." 

"Personally  he  did  not  give  one  the 
impression  of  being  brilliant, "  she  pro 
ceeded  warmly,  "but  no  one  jsould 
write  as  he  did  who  lacked  exquisite 
ability." 

"I've  no  doubt  he  was  quite  excep 
tional,"  Jardine  agreed. 

"A  student — a  critic — and  so  great 
of  heart,"  said  Ivera  Lyle.  Jardine 
did  not  dissent.  He  was  a  mere  meek 
echo.  He  sat  with  the  brother  and 


2QO  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

sister,  talking  late  that  night.  When 
he  left  Robert  looked  inquiringly  at  the 
corded  trunks. 

"  Every  thing  in,  Ive?" 

"I  think  so." 

"No — we've  forgotten  my  letters. 
All  that  came  since  I  was  shot  are  in 
the  drawer  of  that  table.  Jardine  said 
it  was  empty,  and  that  I  had  better 
keep  them  there.  Just  dump  them 
into  the  valise  like  a  good  girl.  It 
isn't  nearly  full." 

Ivera  was  putting  the  pile  of  busi 
ness  epistles  into  the  valise,  when  a 
familiar  hand  attracted  her.  The  writ 
ing  was  that  in  which  the  bulletins  of 
Rob's  condition  had  been  issued.  Clearly 
one — perhaps  more — of  Mr.  Jardine's 
papers  had  been  left  in  the  drawer. 
She  took  the  sheet  out  to  lay  it  aside 
when  something  strangely  familiar  about 
the  written  lines  caught  her  eye.  The 
beginning  was  a  quotation  from  Owen 
Meredith: 

"My  love,  my  chosen,  but  not  mine,   I  send 
My  whole  heart  to   thee   in   these  words  I 
write!"  • 


LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY  291 

' '  I  shall  not  say  my  best  beloved,  when 
I  mean  my  only  and  my  all-beloved!" 
and  so  on.  The  delicate,  startled  face 
of  the  reader  grew  rose-pink  from  brow 
to  chin.  That  writing!  Those  words! 
The  passion  and  the  pathos  of  it  all! 
She  had  read  the  letter  before.  Now 
it  set  her  lips  trembling  and  the  pulses 
in  her  wrists  beating  to  read  it!  One 
page — two  —  three  —  four!  She  knew 
them  all  by  heart,  down  to  the  yearn 
ing,  unfinished  verse  with  which  it 
ended : 

"And  so  I  write,  and  write,  and  write, 

For  the  mere  sake  of  writing  to  you,  dear!" 

"Ive!" 

" Coming!"  She  crushed  the  letter 
into  her  pocket,  and  hastened  to  him. 

They  went  East  next  day.  Jardine 
did  not  write.  He  was  afraid  some 
trick  of  expression  or  style  might  be 
tray  him.  In  November  he  sold  out 
and  bought  shares  in  a  mining  com 
pany.  ..  He  doubled  his  investment, 
quadrupled  it,  and  took  the  train  for 


2Q2  LIKE  A  GALLANT  LADY 

Chicago.  It  was  June.  The  lake  city 
was  cool  and  entrancing  in  the  summer 
sunshine.  Somehow  he  had  never  fan 
cied  Ivera  as  he  found  her.  She  was 
just  leaving  for  a  great  function.  There 
were  diamonds  in  her  hair,  and  she 
carried  glowing  roses. 

It  was  on  the  rear  platform  of  a 
train.  The  depot  was  left  behind.  The 
two,  leaning  against  the  rail,  had  eyes 
only  for  each  other. 

"What  paper  is  that  you  are  hold 
ing?"  he  asked. 

She  held  it  so  he  could  see.  ' '  Did 
you  write  this,  Jack  ?  Did  you, "  sud 
den  light  breaking  in  upon  her,  "write 
the  original  of  every  letter  that  Peter 
Jennings  sent  me?" 

' '  Ivera — dearest !" 

"Of  course  you  can't  answer.  I 
should  not  have  asked  you. "  She  tore 
the  letter  into  little  bits,  and  let  the 
wind  from  the  west  waft  them  away. 

THE    END. 


THIS  BOOK  HAS  BEEN  PRINTED 
DURING  OCTOBER,  1897,  BY  THE 
BLAKELY  PRINTING  COMPANY. 
CHICAGO,  FOR  WAY  ft  WILLIAMS. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is,  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


ffi 


LD-URC 


1968 


ftcv,  u  LD-URL 


• 


APR  7    t97Q 


Form  L9-25tn-8,'46  (9852 ) 444 


UU  bUU  I  HtMN  ttttilU 


A    001  375  945    1 


KvM 
j  1  1 

ART 


